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Water Healer

by Stephen Mead


 

Green stairs

Down round all the curves,

The turns of Cousteau’s territory

The treasures of volcano basins,

The coves holding lava ash in coral wild,

In sponge assertion, in ship ribs & multi-fins

Schooling through yellow, mining light

Through the maternal turquoise…

 

Use this only by sight & feel

Shores of shells, of brine & magma plankton,

The fertility, the silt, from what erupted

Passed on to groves of Nutmeg…

 

Oh, colonial then, the ages, the trading,

The slavery, the progressions East Indian

Risen to Metropolis Isles & the oil ports

Knowing far deserts plumbed, the treks

Of lost cars through vast expanses

Relying on stars to chart, & the fundamental,

The cultural catch phrase:  “Be it the will of God”

 

Lord, what currents crossing, combing all elements,

The liquid to breathe, the biosphere replicas,

The botanical science & chemical exploration

To harness what cosmos

Is transpired by solar winds or light moons…

 

You go there beyond all weapons, politics &

Power vying.  You go there afloat, skuller or

Salty dog, seal or dolphin-----

& it’s healing, this coasting, this effort, this will-----

& it’s belief, holistic, you pioneer, exploring

Soul-poles to grow, be future founder

For every timeline

 

Through which spirals

Discovery.