I wonder what the beached whale thinks
when it crashes on the sands of some
cold-hearted shore in the mist of dawn.
Pushing and moaning with all its might
to set itself free from the jaws of death.
Or perhaps it welcomes the stale
doomed air of suffocation and despair.
Years of swimming in solitude,
cut loose from the pod in a panic
or severed from ties too loose.
Who can say what the weary soul
wonders when it finds itself in
the company of kindhearted hands.
A gift so grand that few are given,
a second chance at the depths of the sea.