Dream of the Seal

A poem written in response to an oil spill years ago.


It felt like a dream.
The utter hopelessness
of the seal,
drenched in black muck
that clung to her
without consent.
A few attempts to be the one she knew
then the finale:
A deathly dive into the oily slime
never to surface again.

Later the professor showed me
boxes of books.
They all told about creation
and destruction.

How absolute it all is, I thought in wonder.

He said: "And in the midst of all this,
the trees go on breathing."