At the Turtle Hospital

Great maimed beasts swim listing in circles,

weights glued lopsided to shells like rippled sand,

drawing them down toward lost

unreachable depths.

Rescue a turtle drifting at sea

and you earn the right to name it, like Adam,

though its true name be always

unspeakable mystery.

If ever I saved a sea turtle floating,

I’d name it, mother, for you—

and you’d laugh,

you who taught me it’s all mystery, all holy,

fish and the leaping, moonlit illusion of fish,

sea wrack and driftweed,

dark tides and the body

bathed in luminescence,

the least, lost creature drifting toward home.

You, who after the stroke swam listing through time

on half-blind limbs, shut out

of the silted sea cave of memory

until at last you dove alone

into the deep welcoming ocean of home.

 EarthSpeak 7, Spring 2011