April 6: Silvery and Still, Fish is a Fish, "Letting Go"

Santiago has killed the fish . . . 

The old man felt faint and sick and he could not see well. But he cleared the harpoon line and let it run slowly through his raw hands and, when he could see, he saw the fish was on his back with his silver belly up. The shaft of the harpoon was projecting at an angle from the fish's shoulder and the sea was discolouring with the red of the blood from his heart. First it was dark as a shoal in the blue water that was more than a mile deep. Then it spread like a cloud. The fish was silvery and still and floated with the waves.

Saint Marty's koan for tonight:  Sometimes a fish is a fish, and sometimes it's death.

Attended a poetry workshop tonight led by a good friend.  Here is something I wrote:  

Letting Go

by:  Martin Achatz

You remember that book

by Adrienne Rich you bought

in New York, the one Rich

inscribed, "To Lola, who went

diving with me one day"?

Even Lola couldn't hold

onto that gift, let it be

boxed up, donated

to a Methodist rummage

sale to raise funds

for Liberia.  Nothing

is ever really lost.  It's just

becomes loved by someone else.