Leviathan

I
Jesus H. Christ
he's gone
quiet falling
over his face
where once storms
had raged.

The ocean that was

always breaking
in his eyes
now calm;
an unbroken surface,
the whitecaps of his youth
now dissolved into air.

And on the seabed,

the deep currents
of his past
can now sleep forever.
For who could dive
into the dark stillness
and scoop up
the words
he abandoned
to the cradle of sand.

Even if some were brought to the surface

who could trust their meaning now
with what he said then?

He had given nothing away,

believing that if he had
it would never have returned
to him:
the love, inexpressible,
the hatred, easily said,
the cut of the unforgiven
worn smooth.
These were the roots
to how he had grown.

What then did we see

in the shade of his arch?
Only this:
The splinter and the trunk;
the gnarled life
inside eaten away.

WARWICK McFADYEN