The Lightkeeper Listens to Waves

by Donald S Murray

He could translate the ocean’s languages;
when it was still and languid,
he would interpret the hush,

comprehending, too, its rages,
each inflexion in its liquid
voice when it rose to lash

the lighthouse walls.
He understood it most, though, when it spoke
to layers of shingle, sand

these hours his footsteps stalled
halfway up the steps where he’d listen as each wave broke
upon the shoreline, understand

the reason for the discontent
it so often displayed
at the thought of sharing earth with mankind

for it knew too well the debris within depths
choking the ocean’s voice in every swell and sway,
the dirt and desolation human life had left behind.