Thinking of my time on the southern California and Baja beaches, and wishing aid and recovery to those magical places from Hurricane Rachel, from this Rachel.
Wrestlng the Waves
The tiny octopus wriggled in my small hand
in that December in San Felipe
where among the tidepools
under an achingly turquoise sky
I had one of the only tender moments
with my father as he dropped the creature
into my grasp and after a moment said
to put it back to live on this rocky beach
of roaring surf.
He was most often dark as a crag’s shadow
but that moment light flared in his green eye
with the baby squirming for its element
and me in wonder at the marvels.
Maybe he was gentle because he was also
in his element, the sea where he fished
every week, among waves he’d wrestle
with his casting line, surf crashing
louder than he could ever shout.
Maybe the waves of his conflicted nature
and the harsh landscape spoke to him
tenderly, his memories and this moment
becoming an atonement of a kind,
standing out now in the past.
I followed him back to camp
to keep only the moment
when waves brought me something
he wanted to keep alive. I surrendered
the octopus for its own good,
a new idea I carried home, wrestling
with my desire to hold for the will
to let another go.
~from