Friday, August 05, 2005

Missing the Pacific

Surf

I do not know much of the sea,
except for crashing exuberance
on the Oregon silent coast,
and walks on the gentle waters
where the stream meets foaming surf.

There is a draw to the dangerous,
roiling, churning, hungry waves,
but I do not full understand.
I stand and say. No! Please hear my stand.
Is there naught to my singing voice?

You may shriek with the dread awesome
power of the Tengri nature's force.
Attack with loneliness and despair.
Call on my trembling empty loins.
Is my plea only to the suffering?

Yet, I will stand against my ground
and defend my chance worthless life,
for it is mine -- yes mine alone,
and God and I will measure its worth,
and I will sing in the morning sun.

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