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.
