Dancing Bear, J.P.
A poem starting with a line by Sarah Hannah
Be fog someday, and you will have nothing
but clouded thought and muffled whale talk,
everything seemingly removed but close.
The old philosophers were right: everything
you need is within but they never mentioned
the terrible ordeal of location, the lack of landmarks
or that you could spend your life listening
to something very near, yet never touch it.
Forget insight—you are lucky for the lighthouse
and the fog horn. If the sounds of grinding
steel and rock never arrive then it is a good life
with gulls and pelicans somewhere above,
the lap of the waves feeding at your feet.
When you have nothing, you have it all—without
the gritty grip, the glitter show, the bending
of your life to hold all those things you should
never have called your own.