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Poem

Santa Cruz

it was deep and blue-green and you could 
see the sandy bottom where mako sharks circled
the boat, waiting for scraps, a habit they'd 
learnt from the tour boats 

that's when I heard the sound I hadn't heard 
anytime before, a rasping blow of air,stifled
by the blood-foam sea and granite drum rocks
of the jagged cave nearby

I took up the anchor and let the crafty current
pull me  over to listen more: the cave, like an
open sore... 
a home to birds and maybe more?

the dark hole,seen many times before but 
never entered, drew us in, me and the bobbing 
sea-sick boat:the sound grew louder and filled 
my ears and a shaft of ocean light shone on a 
sight I knew...a gigantic whale...vast and drawn,
filled the dark dank seaweed cave

the blow hole blew the living spray which bounced
off the rock roof and pierced the sea below, a thousand 
darts at play

and I came up close to the him,in the choppy tropical sea
and saw his eye, the size of a saint's halo looking out at 
this new,dark closed world 
and I wondered what he was thinking...

then as if giving me his final goodbye, he sprayed and blew,
then rolled over onto his side, revealing his white,ribbed 
underbelly, now safe from the whaler's knife

and I shook off a tear and swept the hair from my face,
gunning the boat's motor against current and wind 

and as I made distance away from the cave I thought I 
heard a sound, or was it the reefs and the bouncing 
waves below, like an army of humpbacks saluting a friend, 
before the hammerheads and makos swam in for the end?

and the sun-cracked sky and the salt in my face spoke,
"you'll never forget what happened this day"

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