As
I lean over the bow of the ship
Wind
wrestling with my hair
My
eyes narrowed and moist
I
watch the ocean split
Pushing
a pod of dolphins
Segregating
them to one side
Or
the other
Playful
they
Surf
the wave
Chattering
Sounds
of laughter
At
times
They
turn to their sides
Eying
me
I
feel compelled to respond
So
I wave
In
my other hand
Clenched
tight
A
wadded letter
I
look to a horizon
Interrupted
by lazy swells
Forecasting
an
Impending
storm
In
the shifting clouds
I
see my sister
I
have been at sea
Too
long
My
sister came as a surprise
When
I was already fifteen
My
parents
Scratching
out a living on
Too
few acres
Had
more important things to do
Farming
is
A
silent world
For
a child
A
lot of playing alone
Creating
fantasy worlds
With
stones, sticks and soil
Seen
but not heard
She
was three
Before
we knew she was deaf
No
one knows how old
Whale
52 is
The
year was 1989
When
its 52 hertz cry was heard
For
the first time
About
the same as a note on a tuba
But
still too high for others
Of
its kind to hear
Blue
whale 10-39 hertz
Fin
whale 20 hertz
A
sound wave traversing the expanse
Of
the ocean
Begging
for a response
Only
to pass by
Unnoticed
A
shadow on a cloudy day
We
didn’t have money
No
special school
Or
special lessons
For
my sister
When
the closest town
Has
the population
Of
your bank balance
And
the closest city
Is
the distance of your debt
Treatment
for ailments
Usually
involved
Rubbing
a little mud on it
The
whale travels alone
Not
in the same pattern as others
Calling
and calling for companionship
Confused
as to why no one pays attention
“I
AM HERE!”
Ignored
Mom
speculated she was slow
Maybe retarded
Hidden
behind the
Bottom-stair
banister late one night
I
heard her actually say it out loud.
Retarded
Some
speculate Whale 52 has never
Seen
another whale
Too
much space
Planetary
dust in the expanse of the universe
But
others believe
There
had to be chance encounters
That
had not gone well
52
was just too different to be included
Some
speculate Whale 52 if deaf
Some
speculate Whale 52 is a hermaphrodite
Speculate
malformed
Speculate
a hybrid
Speculation
is what we do with the unknown
As
if it gives us some sort of control
When
I was 18
I
left home
Wandering
my way to the coast
Escaping
as far as I could
Leaving
land
Casting
off
As
a deck hand
I
never returned
My
sister would have turned 11
This
year
Some
whales live over 100 years
The
hertz frequency of 52’s song
Has
lowered over time
Indicating
age
The
letter
Penned
in my mother’s hand
Was
short and to the point
Come home
We
think we have a location on 52
We
so badly want to find
And
befriend this lone-ancient soul
How
maddening
To
never have companionship
A
family
A
friend
A
lover
Solitude
for a century
Longing
for a century
Wanting
it to end
