I Hear the Ocean Landing

from the book "Selected Poems (2002-2017)"
 

(We went to the edge of the universe to witness my son, Gary, become an ironman while staying at nearby Smiths Beach resort, I can breathe the air from Indian Ocean on my balcony.)
 

Some nights, you croon, 
others, you wail,
most of the time, you hum.

Last night, I could hear your pounding,

and this morning you continue.

The landing must be 
quite emotional.
Are you happy? Finally,
reaching your destination. 
Yet, no clapping, no laughter?

Is it just a relief? Or a surrender 
to an inevitable destiny?

​

Are you mad? Again and again
at the pinnacle of your odyssey,
someone resolves to stymie
your impetus. 
The shore is in your way.  
You pound and sigh,
scream till your gutturals crackle,
finally, you lose your voice
accept and swallow all your pride,
ripple with the flow,
trickle with the tides,
obey the tidings.

A sleepless night 
to figure out your journey. 
I exercise the breathing technique, 
counting the inhales into my belly, 
watching the exhales disappear
one breath at a time.
It goes on until I find the rhythm 
that syncs with your calling.

​

And then I discover your meter and beat.
Iambic? Trochee?
I realize what I hear throughout the night
is just your breathing. 
Not joy or sorrow,
neither complaint nor celebration.
Just pulsing along,
whichever waves you encounter.