monoceros blogs"The Mermaid"
All day he had felt her stirring
under the boat, and several times
when the net had tightened, frog-nervous,
he had bungled the pulling-in,
half-glad of the stupid, open mouths
he could throw back.
At sundown
the shifting and holding of time and air
had brought her to the still surface,
to sun herself in the last, slow light
where lilies and leeches tangled and rocked.
He could have taken her then, aimed his net
as dragonfly hunters do when the glassy gliding
of rainbows goes to their heads,
could have carried her home on tiptoe
and lifted her lightly, ever so lightly,
over his sill.
And hopeless, knew
that to have her alive was only this:
the sounding, casting, waiting, seeing,
and willing the light not to move,
not yet to round the bay of her shoulder
and, passing, release her
to the darkness he would not enter.
~ Lisel Mueller
While some creatures never leave the ocean floor, some move vertically through the depths, adjusting to the changes in pressure, light, and temperature, finally exploring the places where air and water meet: just beneath the waves, beside a boat, upon a rock.
What do mermaids want? They are the stuff of dreams, but what do they dream of? A day in the sun, chasing sea eels, singing the latest oceanic ballad, selecting sea shells for home decor, mesmerizing sailors?
If I were a mermaid, I wouldn't be the kind that combs her hair and lies in wait for smitten sailors and fishermen, ultimately becoming a prize, existing for their amusement or affection. I'd seek out the giant squid and see for myself if its eye is really the size of a dinner plate. I'd follow the creature and see if it's a drifter or an aggressive hunter. Is it mere prey for the sperm whale or does it fight to the death, making the whale work for its meal? If I were a mermaid, I would look for Atlantis; I would spend years listening to the earth's crust shifting and creating in its own rhythm new landscapes and islands; I would trace the strange mewing sounds in the darkness, the sudden shrieks and phantom moans; I would linger on a rock through the night and watch for distant, passing ships, wondering about their destinations. Just as I am human now, wondering about sea creatures and the unknown places they go, or hide.
Under the waves, by Pete Droge
Posted by Monoceros at February 21, 2008 8:58 AM