Why does the fish jump?
What urges the scaly, slippery silver seed of the deep
To forsake its watery realm for a poisonous stint, suspended in the atmosphere?
Why does the fish need a reason to leap?
Why do I hide the reason I write?
I am no Tyger, not burning bright
The fish no Lamb for me to fight.
I am figment, obscure, irrelevant—a lie,
This Ryver has no fearful symmetry.
O fie! O sweet! O Moon!
Mother of all hath deceived me!
What terrible tides has she, most celestial of bodies,
Wrought upon the shore!
My place of nature, my sanctorum of solitude
And solace, now ravenously digested by
The lying tides. One moment here,
Next disappeared, completely vanished—
Banished!—I declare—by the tides of the moon,
Although she too has seas, sees fit to wreak
Her havoc on a less Plutonian shore!
What more has Thor spoke of, what Nordic lore!
Jörmungandr! Yggdrasil! Ragnarök!
The end of this world is nigh!
Giants! Gods! Grasses and men all
Will fall to the terrible, tortuous tides.
Thought and Mind, stately ravens both,
Have forsaken the eye of Odin,
And do take flight across the estuary;
Kite and kestrel fly across the open sea.
Osprey! Lord of fish, destroyer of worlds,
Avian Shiva, does but stay,
Not arms but mighty talons,
Beak shrieking in the fey.
Sound the horn, meet and greet your doom
Stand tall against the tide, companions at your side.
Take charge of your destiny.
Together, we’ll defy a god and defeat the whispering sea.
Poseidon has no domain here,
Neptune’s beard’s been sheern
Moloch will destroy no more
On this transitory shore.
-Matthew Goodrich, Brookfield, CT