What do you speak of in the night
Adrift within the moon’s soft
light,
Mere shadows in the moving waves,
A hint of passing time and
graves?
An ancient memory saw you when
You first looked at the face of
men
And felt their lances pierce your side.
Back then who listened when
you cried?
Who thought of what a gift they had
Nor, in your death, did
they feel sad.
But yesterday upon a beach
A whale was caught, waves out of
reach
And we all came to set you free.
We watched you dancing in the
sea
And heard you call to your own kind,
Our joyful thoughts trailing
behind.
© 2012 Pam H. Murray
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