Leviathan Dreaming

Sitting atop a great hill in San Francisco facing east towards the Bay, whose calm waters reflect the cloudless sky. There are no bridges or human structures of any kind in sight. The view is exquisitely clear; every tree, stone, flower patch, human and animal figure etched to a fine point.  Angel Island wild and deserted, Alcatraz is free of it’s prison.  The pleasure of visual articulation is pronounced, you smile like a sentient security camera while scanning north and south at regular intervals.

A small disturbance textures the Bay’s surface. Followed by several similar rippled emergences.  Stand up.  Pay attention. Run.  Run toward the disturbances.  Pick up speed on vertiginous slope down to the Bay.  Legs flutter like hummingbird wings. Lungs expand effortlessly sucking in the sweet jasmine-scented air.  The shore is just ahead.  The calm glassy waters lay next to white sand like napping partners. Just as toes dip in, pivot abruptly to the left, to the north.

Run. Run and look toward the disturbances on your right.  One. And then two and three. Three whales are swimming alongside you. They travel at the same speed in the same direction.  One of them acknowledges you.  You are not tiring, you are not running out of breath. You are happy.  You open your mouth and whale song comes out.  You cannot say how this is true, but the whales’ eyes smile and lift a bit higher above the surface. The whales live between air and water, their dives are called soundings. The whales sing for navigation, they sing for the hunt.  The whales sing in greeting, they sing for loss. Now they sing with you as you run in tandem with the Leviathan.

Text by Mark Alice Durant, image by unknown.