When wood gives way to water
the structure must collapse.
No mind is built to last.
The psyche, having weathered the storm,
and lies like a beached whale,
groaning and heaving.
No one knows why
to be human is to hurt
in the deep places
and to know when to seek
So when the sea has conquered the cellar
you are already half-sunk
and when the waves have raided the wine
the sailors have already mutinied.
Do not look for buckets;
nothing can scoop out an ocean
or a thought once it has
Instead, drop your anchor –
drop it and feel the weight of it
as you emerge from that wreck of
wood and nail and bone.
You will know land once you feel it
under your feet, once you remember
you have feet
and when wood gives way to water
you will know how to carry yourself forward
like the newly-hatched turtle
under the eye of a watchful moon
or the tortoise that blinks its slow eyes
and knows how to die.