the current

.

For a long time some of us

lie in the marshes like dark coats

forgetting that we are water

.

dust gathers all day on our closed lids

weeds grow up through us

.

but the eels keep trying to tell us 

writing over and over in our mud

our heavenly names

.

and through us a thin cold current

never sleeps

.

its glassy feet move on until they find stones

.

then cloud fish call to it again

your heart is safe with us

.

bright fish flock to it again touch it

with their mouths say yes

have vanished

.

yes and black flukes wave to it

from the Lethe of whales

.

~ W.S. Merwin

from Migration, The Carrier of Ladders 1970

.

.