At this hour, questions become whales.
A man stirs sugar into coffee and offers it to his son. The coffee becomes a padded vest, soft around the boy’s heart. The boy cuts a paper snowflake and tucks it into his chest pocket. The boy walks into the rain. He walks all the way to the ocean. He pulls up a chair and begins to question:
how long? what then? and I?
The questions become whales and slip away. The questions become a ship and he boards it. The boy calls to the migrating salmon: What can I learn from trying? The salmon are soft, swollen with the future, and they still speak in salt water. They become sailors for the boy’s boat; they tug down the sails. The salmon become bright like stars.
Above them, the sun. A crow on the mast, explains: his murder unwrapped the sun of clouds, and day came to be. The sun asks: what is it, to be happy? No one answers except the crow, who says: how can fire ever know?
The boy pulls out the paper snowflake and it is a map. The boy names the constellations: okapi & yellow pine & woodland grouse & spirit bear & the boy adds his own name: beloved and far away, the father smiles. The whales chatter sleepily. The crows let the sun climb back into the clouds. What we make, the salmon say, travels with us. It is moss in winter. It is always beginning. •
When I wrote this little piece, the most important character was - believe it or not - a table. And now the table has completely evaporated, leaving whales, a paper snowflake, the sun.
This piece feels like a hug, a little piece of gentleness. I’ll be dropping the link to a bright and happy poet interview in the paid subscribers chat this week, instead of a writing prompt.
More gentle reading from the archives:
honestly! this is my most favourite piece of yours EVER. since you read it Monday I have constantly thought of the boy and the snowflake in his pocket and how it became a whale... I mean come on now! gorgeous.
I will never get over the boy adding his own name: beloved 😭❤️