A Song for the Salmon by David Whyte
For too many days now I have not written of the sea,
nor the rivers, nor the shifting currents
we find between the islands.
For too many nights now I have not imagined the salmon
threading the dark streams of reflected stars,
nor have I dreamt of his longing
nor the lithe swing of his tail toward dawn.
I have not given myself to the depth to which he goes,
to the cargoes of crystal water, cold with salt,
nor the enormous plains of ocean swaying beneath the moon.
I have not felt the lifted arms of the ocean
opening its white hands on the seashore,
nor the salted wind, whole and healthy
filling the chest with living air.
I have not heard those waves
fallen out of heaven onto earth,
nor the tumult of sound and the satisfaction
of a thousand miles of ocean
giving up its strength on the sand.
But now I have spoken of that great sea,
the ocean of longing shifts through me,
the blessed inner star of navigation
moves in the dark sky above
and I am ready like the young salmon
to leave his river, blessed with hunger
for a great journey on the drawing tide.
nor the rivers, nor the shifting currents
we find between the islands.
For too many nights now I have not imagined the salmon
threading the dark streams of reflected stars,
nor have I dreamt of his longing
nor the lithe swing of his tail toward dawn.
I have not given myself to the depth to which he goes,
to the cargoes of crystal water, cold with salt,
nor the enormous plains of ocean swaying beneath the moon.
I have not felt the lifted arms of the ocean
opening its white hands on the seashore,
nor the salted wind, whole and healthy
filling the chest with living air.
I have not heard those waves
fallen out of heaven onto earth,
nor the tumult of sound and the satisfaction
of a thousand miles of ocean
giving up its strength on the sand.
But now I have spoken of that great sea,
the ocean of longing shifts through me,
the blessed inner star of navigation
moves in the dark sky above
and I am ready like the young salmon
to leave his river, blessed with hunger
for a great journey on the drawing tide.
At this Weekend With David Whyte, he read the poem above, about salmon. Because he is from the Pacific Northwest (he lives on Whidby Island), I waited for him to talk about how the salmon are holy to the Indians there. I had learned about that from Sherman Alexie when I heard him speak on his book tour for You Don't Have to Say You Love Me. David did not bring that up, though.
It made me think about Sherman Alexie. I liked the movie "Smoke Signals" based on a book by him. I liked You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, too, and I greatly enjoyed hearing him talk about it. Besides being eloquent, he was very funny, and I learned a bit about the Native American tradition and their lives now. I wrote about that in this blog.
Shortly after I saw Alexie, he was caught in the Me, Too movement. It seems he had importuned women on his speaking tours. It's a hard thing. I like him. I like his writing, his humor, what he professes to believe. It reminds me of Garrison Keillor, also caught in the Me, Too movement. How stupid they were to have treated women that way. I experienced some of those kinds of things and I hated it. I want it to stop. At the same time, I want to forgive those who repent of that stupidity when it was not as harmful as some, when it was stupid crassness as opposed to bodily or other harm. Even those who did worse, if they're truly repentant, if they pay the consequences, I want them to be re-accepted into society.