even so close to the shore
in such shallow water
and still
the depth is immense
as deep as the sky
and darker
in the shadows
reflections distorted
as through antique glass
darkly...
so hard to determine
where the sky ends
and water begins
the tug of the tide is so strong here
and in such fresh water
I wonder
is this the place?
where Odysseus polytropos,
turned all but inside out
by the god he angered,
came at last inland
far enough
to have his oar mistaken
for a winnowing fan
and so planted it
there
in the solid ground
that those who knew not
even the taste of salt on their food
might come to know the god of the sea
an offering
a final sacrifice
to propitiate the one
whose wrath had kept him
so long from finding his home
for here, at this place
reflection but momentary
lulls me
pulls me
under the current of thought
into realms of stillness
silence and
depth
This is the eighth pairing in Confluence, a series of poems written in response to original photographs.
I began writing these during the pandemic, using the pictures I was making at the time. I have continued this practice ever since, always writing in response to my most recent images.
I publish a new Confluence every new moon and every time the luminary dyad perfect a trine.