In the belly of the whale
I sit
Faint glow from a fire that does not emanate heat
It simply gives light
Enveloping this fascinating room
Like a womb
But not a womb
I sit here for comfort
I sit here to hide from the harsh elements
That have tried to consume me
Like predator for its prey
The last five weeks
I sit here for hours
Unaware that I sit there
Unconscious of Whale and I
Until a bit later as I lie down on the table
With eyes closed
As Michele practices her gift
Then I see it
The whale room
We are floating in a warm, soft nighttime
There is a faint orange hue outside the belly
Along the horizon where dark mountains rise
It appears as a silhouette through Whale's thick skin
I love this darkness
I whisper silently
This comforts me
I feel safe in this type of darkness
Whale swims to shore
Opens her giant mouth
Extends her giant tongue
And gently drops me off onto the soft, sandy beach
Into the darkness outside of Whale
Still will campfire
Whale floats in the water
Shallow depths
But enough to keep her breathing properly
She is happy
She smiles
I smile
As I sit on the beach
Enveloped by this magical darkness
And then a swirl
Like that of the Milky Way
Like that of my thumbprints
Like that of the twisting ladders
Of my DNA
And then
Back on the beach
Lying down now
Resting
From the sheer exhaustion of simply being
In this body
Tormented by pain and stupor
I sit up
And see an elephant
Hmm...Is not the elephant the biggest beast on earth
Is not the whale the biggest swimmer in the sea
What does this mean
Elephants don't live on the beach
Or do they
But this one is here
On this beach
He is a gentle beast
With his trunk he sprays water over his head
And onto his back
But from where does this water come
For it isn't salty
It is fresh
