Article in Arts / Literature / Poetry
I recently visited Southeast Alaska. How is it that we can sit by when beauty of such grandeur & majesty melts away? A glacier a mile wide & 20 stories high? Of what use is any -ism if it can do nothing to save our home? Do we hate our Mother so much? Little wonder we hardly know how to live.
 
 
 

Where the Gods Do Nothing But Play



Our first night on board ship, a humpback whale
Breached for us many times slapping his fins —
Enthralled we watched him play, a mile off perhaps.
The constant bite of the wind taught us how cold it was
And, so, how adapted to his home he must be.

I stood there mindful of his beauty and power,
Recalling he's kin to the great blue whale,
Largest animal ever to live on earth,
And like him, once terrestrial, a carnivore,
That returned to the sea to balance his bulk.

In their new home some also found new food,
Reaching immense size eating tiny crustaceans,
And suddenly I grasped one of nature’s rules:
Exile lures you into finding your home
When your cradle’s become the door to your grave.
 
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About the Author 

R Allen Shoaf
EROTIC RECKONINGS, my second volume of poetry, can now be purchased from New Plains Press or from Amazon. My third volume, PIED-PIPER PHILOL

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Where the Gods Do Nothing But Play

I recently visited Southeast Alaska. How is it that we can sit by when beauty of such grandeur & majesty melts away? A glacier a mile wide & 20 stories high? Of what use is any -ism if it can do nothing to save our home? Do we hate our Mother so much? Little wonder we hardly know how to live.

 
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