sometimes the lines on the map are redrawn

and we must dispose of latitude and longitude

sometimes the ships leak and take on water

and we must repair the woody damage

and sometimes the sun comes up in places where

compass and quadrant could never conceive of

such a fiery birth

so when the creatures of the deep

(woken from their sleep by sailors seeking harbor)

turnabout, with a flash of fishy scales

and power in their splashing tails,

then we come to understand that

loss cannot be confined within finite boundaries

cannot be made whole through effort prescribed by time

will not respond to the engines of heat and gravity

will never cease to exist

as long as love comes to us

comes to the surface, unexpected

breathing and joyous

seeing – and longing to be seen

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