.
For a long time some of us
lie in the marshes like dark coats
forgetting that we are water
.
dust gathers all day on our closed lids
weeds grow up through us
.
but the eels keep trying to tell us
writing over and over in our mud
our heavenly names
.
and through us a thin cold current
never sleeps
.
its glassy feet move on until they find stones
.
then cloud fish call to it again
your heart is safe with us
.
bright fish flock to it again touch it
with their mouths say yes
have vanished
.
yes and black flukes wave to it
from the Lethe of whales
.
~ W.S. Merwin
from Migration, The Carrier of Ladders 1970
.
.
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