The Whale

The Whale

by p.b. wells

I didn’t come out here

expecting a miracle.

I came out here because the room was too small

and because my head was doing that thing

where it chews the same rotten thoughts

like a dog with an old bone.

gray sky.

cold water.

hills sitting back there

like they’d seen it all already.

I’m standing around

with my hands in my pockets,

trying not to be me.

then he comes up.

not a polite rise,

not some shy fin like a half-hearted handshake,

but a whole goddamn mountain

breaking the surface

like the ocean finally decided

to show off.

a humpback,

black and scarred and heavy with years,

barnacles like old medals

pinned to his skin.

he throws himself into the air

as if the laws of gravity

are just suggestions,

as if he’s sick of the deep

for one glorious second

and wants the open world,

the gray light,

the vast, stupid sky.

and the splash

is a hard applause.

white spray everywhere,

like the sea laughing with its mouth full.

he lands back in his element

and keeps going,

because that’s what whales do.

breathe.

dive.

carry their giant heart through miles of water.

sing low and secret

where we can’t follow.

eat when they feel like it,

travel because something inside them says move,

and never once check a clock.

and me,

standing there in my small body,

with all my cheap worries,

I feel it.

the simple beauty of it,

this massive creature just living,

not trying to impress anyone,

not selling anything,

not begging for attention,

just existing with power and grace

like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

and seeing him

does something clean to my brain.

for a moment

I’m not a broken machine,

counting money and regrets.

not tired,

not full of noise.

I’m just alive,

standing on the edge of the world,

getting blessed by a whale

who doesn’t know my name

and doesn’t need to.

he goes back down,

and the water smooths over,

like nothing happened.

but something did.

I walk back to my room

lighter,

like the ocean reached into my ribs

and pulled out

one small piece of darkness

and tossed it into the deep.