Iceberg theory
On floating thoughts
Two from Newfoundland
Out on the water I was baptized by the blue of it. Submerged in the impossible place where the sea meets the sky. Time collapsing like a whale’s lung. Crying from the beauty and the wind too, watching the puffins jump from the cliff. Little Jesuses, every leap a resurrection.
*
As I watched the iceberg float by I wanted to scoop it up, drop it in a martini glass. Obviously I should have been thinking about the immensity of it all. The ten thousand years it took to get here. All the invisible beneath the visible. And after the moment passed I should have let it go, the thinking about myself as I watched the iceberg float by. Should have let the thought drift off, break apart, melt into nothingness. Instead I let myself chip away at it, fill my cup, sip, swallow.