Thursday, February 7, 2008
Like a fleet of ghost ships sailing north, the ice travels with the wind. I seek comfort in believing these broken bits of ice are children that the glacier has nudged out of her nest. Will I never learn to distinguish a mineral from humanity again?
They rise two and three stories out of the water and dwarf our manmade vessel. How deep they stretch beneath the sea we cannot know, and our ship’s crew gives them wide berth. They are mighty, and ignorant of their power, oblivious to their fate.
Enchanted by wind and current, they press northward. They lift their sails to the sun with the confidence of those who do not know that they are sailing into death. Each caress diminishes their days. How long before they have become so much a part of the seas they travel, that they are invisible to human eyes?
I want to wrap them in my arms and tell them “Stop!”
But they would only laugh at me, because I cannot grasp that I too am melting.