Whale Out of Water

I went to Pacific City to watch the whales migrate north.

We climbed up to a vantage point

closer to the clouds than the sea. 

I started to think I was a whale out of water.

Like maybe in another life I was whale.

Or this life I am a whale and I’m waiting for the universe

to confirm it. 

I contemplated the possibility of being a whale

and I managed to come up with five arguments. 

1.

Did you know that whales are voluntary breathers?

Not in the sense that they can choose

to not breathe and still live

but they have to think about every breath.

I often feel like I do too. 

Like I am swimming in an ocean 

that is too deep for me to see the bottom

and I have to keep remembering to surface to the light for air. 

2.

I was adopted.

So technically I do not have a complete history of myself.

3.

They are related to hippos and cows.

I have been called both so this isn’t an illogical leap.

4.

The whale-watching guide said that when whales migrate

they don’t usually sleep.

Which is further proof that maybe I am a whale.

Most nights sleep chases me

but I am running too fast for it to catch up. 

I toss and turn on a bed

with sheets that crash like waves

and pillows that threaten to drag me under.

I swim in a bed that has me thinking if I fall asleep

I may forget to think about remembering to breathe.  

5.

Whales reside in an environment that signals when to stay

and when they need to leave to survive. 

They are brave enough to listen to the waters.

They are not the frog in the boiling pot.

They are the nomad with many homes.

I too feel the need to leave for warmer waters

when winter opens the door.

I was not meant for this darkness

this cold.

There is a migration that happens

and I must learn to go when I feel the tug. 

The whales are almost too far out to see.

Every so often one of them blows and then disappears.

I am left standing overlooking a home I just missed

calling mine.

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