Shore

Where to begin?

Where to begin?

Here.

In the quietest part of my mind,
I'm on that shore again.

In front of me is a darkness that breathes-
that curls its lips
and bares gums and teeth.

Cool, sucking black carries sand from underfoot.
It's soft here,
but the question comes again.

Would I dare an ankle?
Hazard a knee?
My nerve, a proud afternoon thunderstorm
breaks
and subsides. 
No.  No further.

I can hear, them, though-
hear whales singing to each other.
I can hear eels sweeping into reefs, blind as cavefish
(like me).
I can hear crabs sharpening their pincers,
shaving prime cuts
off of dead things,
and jellyfish
forever pulling water in,
pushing it out.

And among them there are also
beings of fathomless power, horror,
rage and beauty
roll silently in the pitch.
Undiscovered. Undreamt of by man.
I cannot see them, and something may brush against my leg.

My nerve is a red brick house in the sunlight
that proves empty and haunted in the dark.
No.  No further.  Not this night.

I know
in that quietest part of my mind,
that one distant and windy night,
I will stand on that shore
with the sucking sand and breathing dark,
and I will not be afraid.

I will disappear beneath black waves.

One distant and windy night,
I will explore all that reels beneath them.