Whalefall

by Daniel Kraus

Jay laughs. What a gift at a moment like this.

maybe birth is a process, not an event.

This underwater cloudland is a devastation of beauty,

It must be the strongest thing that ever lived, matched only by its unexpected grace.

By acknowledging Jay, it shares that it has a soul.

The voicer is louder than any canyon echo. It’s below, behind, and beyond the deep, a current moving at eternity speed.

Because their lives, without predator pursuits or the limitless expanse of an ocean, are no longer worth living.

But light finds a way. Here in the realm of the sun.

he strains for the marigold blush anyway, inhales its pollen and tastes its ocean,

Acceptance of foregone fate. Gratitude for being gifted existence, if only a sliver.

That’s the baptism: initiation into a ghost menagerie, extinction canceled.

And what can a single spark do? Eva asked. Her eyes feline with the intoxication of catastrophe.

How far ahead do angels of the deep track the collision courses of terrestrial bodies?

Sun. Nothing like it. Strawberry shine, dawdling honey.

At the end, all the clichés are true. Flayed of its tough skin, insecurities, and regrets, the heart is love.

But being born is scary no matter how many times you do it.