how long?

digging through the boxes
the bookshelves
the piles of paper,
fort like,
built up around you,
marking your territory,
with all the important things
you were always afraid to store
out of view
there was nothing from me
nothing from you
about anything
that wasn't work
or money
how long had you lived without love?

digging

deep
down
six feet
in the cold dark earth
the body of my father
lays
eyes forever closed
hands cold
fingernails growing

and i want to dig in the earth this spring
this california spring turning fast into summer
this good green earth browning fast
on all the dried out edges
of not enough rain

and i have not, yet
save for the accidental planting
with my baby girl
as we put her various pea plants
in pots
and watered
what did not sprout
in time for the science fair

but the bulbs we pushed into the ground
are cutting open the earth with their green swords
so anxious they are to grow tall
to grow open

and i am encouraged by their appearance
above the ground
i am encouraged by their sentry promise
six inches from each other in a long straight line
of warning
and i look to them, hoping
i look to them, hoping

and i remember when they sprout
my sister will come
and she'll be damn gladiola to see me
and together, maybe
i'll be brave enough
to again dig in this burial ground

whale watching

and it was an early morning
and a late arrival
and just as everyone boarded the bus
we joined the line
and got on
and rode
and rode
and rode
the bumpy way
to monterey

and arrived
and got out of the bus
and walked in the rain
and boarded the crowded boat
and went in bumpy exuberance
off
toward the great unknown
of the deepest waters
of possibility

and we carried our dreams with us
our great white whales of imagination
and looked to the vast black ocean
and saw ripples and waves
and things that might be
things that could be
things we imagined
things we wanted to see

and when the boat stopped
and the voice on the microphone
told us what time to look at
and what to see
and named what we were seeing
we saw it
her words brought it out of the darkness
and into the seeable

and in the seeing
we saw the spray
and then, a split second later,
the long black bodies
of up to that moment
only imagined great fish

whole whales
from someone else's photographs
were brought into a wider view
by just a sliver of long black length
above the waves
and we saw

we saw

we saw

we really saw
for the very first time in our lives
no matter how many times we've seen them before
these long black moments
of whale

and this miracle of seeing
continued
up and down the rocky waves
of deep, dark water
and with every sighting
we held our breath
and moved, as she called out the hour
from starboard to port
and looked off the bow
toward forever
and saw all our imaginings
realized
in the real thing

the real thing
flanked by others
a pod
a family
breeching and diving
deep
deeper
into the under water depths
of our ignited imaginations
burning
bursting
with what it is
what it was
what it will continue in memory to be

a searing moment
a far lean off the rail
a longing and looking out
with the spirit of expectancy
and the sheer joy
of windy seeing
what was once only an idea
an image
someone else's picture

and in that moment
what had only been a caged beast
was there, off the boat,
in the blubbery black flesh
of the wide, alive water
in glinting daylight
REALLY real
our whales
alive
in the wild
with each of us
seeing each of them
for the very first
unforgettable
time