Day 26 (these 'days' are quixote you understand)
I was born at the bottom of a murky sea
Under the thorns and mud and through the caves,
Far below the vines and weeds, submerged deeper than the clinging sponges
To the dark, beyond the realm of pearls and angel fishes,
Even gone darker than the currents where the giant squid roam.
I was born on rock shelves, closer to fire than land, nearer
to death than sand, solid and intransient, finless and free,
I was born breathless, was born without eyes, was born and never known,
I was born fearless, was born beside the kraken, was born and could not see,
I felt the light, shallow to my lips, pale to my fingertips, felt it
Even through the blanket of shark tooth and sea weeds that dampened it
From view, felt it and knew I was born with the deepest unwell mind
Though at the time it just felt like salty lungs and veins, clogged to bursting,
Felt the salt and wanted to burst to the surface and grab the thing that had
Trembled me to itching.
The moon nor the sun knew me, I ascended by some othertime, by the length of a wave,
by the glory of it crashing, I ascended without sails or tails, without thought I could fail,
Against the current, against the dark, rising without knowing where to start or
what I was coming to.
I hit the surface and was kicked back, thrown, mowed down by surf,
by irreligious smokes of white that showed no mercy to my desire for light,
churned and spat and roasted by turf and tow, I nearly sank
nearly surged for the dank depths, until the glitter of splintered sun enticed
my soul to fortify, onward through the sting and rip, and I gathered
clench-toed, and withstood the vertigo to breach the zenith of sea.
I thought I would fall
into the bright that had unhooked my blindsight, but above the water was sky.
All was high (higher). All was dazzling.
At last I knew the meaning of my eyelashes, for I could clothe the sky,
could shield the hot glow and know summer, could flutter a daydream.
At last I knew the meaning of my unkissed lips for I could shout and cry;
a creature outburst my throat and lower from my chest, and inside my chest,
this new treasure, this contraction and blow of organs I had not known, unrusted,
I was strong,
and yet was weary, the safety of the dark deserting me, a clamour of colour
and a battering, the waves smattering my limbs, lacklustering my joy.
I did not fight the white rush. I let it carry me and throw me to the sea shore,
and there I rested, weak, with unseasoned limbs, on the pristine length of land.
I did not count the shadows that fell before my wobbling bones strengthened,
but in that time the last scraps of dark left my eyes, and the swathe of sky, a door
to resurrection urged my feet to leave the ocean.
I did not count the days or years of wandering
when I went west from that place. I only know I walked until the colour
changed to green
and I had seen all the many ways the sky could cry, blistering
with white and frowning with floods. I laughed and ran, with others, whose fears
I still recall, but not their names,
and after all I found a tear that was all mine, a drop of the dark I could not leave behind.
The sun, with all her glittering polish and glory, could not burn the taste of the stygian
depths from me, and at her death, after sunset, my closed eyes were wettened by the mud,
and the sting of the deep pulled me back.
Under the thorns and mud and through the caves,
Far below the vines and weeds, submerged deeper than the clinging sponges
To the dark, beyond the realm of pearls and angel fishes,
Even gone darker than the currents where the giant squid roam.
I was born on rock shelves, closer to fire than land, nearer
to death than sand, solid and intransient, finless and free,
I was born breathless, was born without eyes, was born and never known,
I was born fearless, was born beside the kraken, was born and could not see,
I felt the light, shallow to my lips, pale to my fingertips, felt it
Even through the blanket of shark tooth and sea weeds that dampened it
From view, felt it and knew I was born with the deepest unwell mind
Though at the time it just felt like salty lungs and veins, clogged to bursting,
Felt the salt and wanted to burst to the surface and grab the thing that had
Trembled me to itching.
The moon nor the sun knew me, I ascended by some othertime, by the length of a wave,
by the glory of it crashing, I ascended without sails or tails, without thought I could fail,
Against the current, against the dark, rising without knowing where to start or
what I was coming to.
I hit the surface and was kicked back, thrown, mowed down by surf,
by irreligious smokes of white that showed no mercy to my desire for light,
churned and spat and roasted by turf and tow, I nearly sank
nearly surged for the dank depths, until the glitter of splintered sun enticed
my soul to fortify, onward through the sting and rip, and I gathered
clench-toed, and withstood the vertigo to breach the zenith of sea.
I thought I would fall
into the bright that had unhooked my blindsight, but above the water was sky.
All was high (higher). All was dazzling.
At last I knew the meaning of my eyelashes, for I could clothe the sky,
could shield the hot glow and know summer, could flutter a daydream.
At last I knew the meaning of my unkissed lips for I could shout and cry;
a creature outburst my throat and lower from my chest, and inside my chest,
this new treasure, this contraction and blow of organs I had not known, unrusted,
I was strong,
and yet was weary, the safety of the dark deserting me, a clamour of colour
and a battering, the waves smattering my limbs, lacklustering my joy.
I did not fight the white rush. I let it carry me and throw me to the sea shore,
and there I rested, weak, with unseasoned limbs, on the pristine length of land.
I did not count the shadows that fell before my wobbling bones strengthened,
but in that time the last scraps of dark left my eyes, and the swathe of sky, a door
to resurrection urged my feet to leave the ocean.
I did not count the days or years of wandering
when I went west from that place. I only know I walked until the colour
changed to green
and I had seen all the many ways the sky could cry, blistering
with white and frowning with floods. I laughed and ran, with others, whose fears
I still recall, but not their names,
and after all I found a tear that was all mine, a drop of the dark I could not leave behind.
The sun, with all her glittering polish and glory, could not burn the taste of the stygian
depths from me, and at her death, after sunset, my closed eyes were wettened by the mud,
and the sting of the deep pulled me back.