The Last Song
THE LAST SONG
Dim are the depths and deep are the dives
As he glides on his solitary way
Through forests of fronze and rainbowed reefs
Round rocks where the guillemots play
Past silvering sands and palm dappled beach
And out to the oceans embrace
He follows the path that his ancestors took
The last of his line and his race.
Is ancestral memory absorbed from the past
Of whalers who slaughtered his kin?
With harpoons that ripped, spilling guts, letting blood
For a gland, or a tooth, or a fin?
Does he see as he cruises the vast lonely waste
The sun bleached bones of his kind?
The carcasses rotted and scavenger stripped
The fate of his race sealed and signed?
You may hear him sometimes as he journeys alone
And sings to the set of the sun
For the saddest of sounds is the song of the whale
As he calls to his brothers long gone.