The Moya View

Sea-Son


The shells and scales will wash away.

He has chosen to be a man.

She will watch as the slick of him vanishes
no longer swimming but walking away.

He has chosen to be a man.


In the cold crisp air her throats turns dry.
She casts her whale song to the waves,
but he can no longer hear it, feel it in his being.

He has chosen to be a man.

She cries, the one new sound he understands.
She knows he will no longer seek the sea.
The waves wear away, flow beyond her back.

He has chosen to be a man.

“He will know himself, now. Know mortality.
Feel and know the touch of each season
over every hair and pore of his new body.
He will know hunger-loneliness , love-hate.
He will know meaningless and faith.”

He has chosen to be a man”,
she knows deep inside her sadness.


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