Gazing at the Ocean

A solitary man gazing at the ocean,
a solitary man gazing at the waves of the ocean,
stands motionless a long time on the shore
as if perusing the fate of his people.
The man does not notice that time is passing,
that noon was long ago,
that the sun is skipping across the ripples of the water
like an immense wounded red gull,
and that soon everywhere
an endless African night will descend.

The man stands motionless like a pillar of sorrow.
The ocean is immense; the man, small.

A small solitary man gazing at the waves of the ocean
stands on the shore and in his thoughts is calling
to all the galleys of his unknown ancestors
who sailed away on a journey centuries ago
to an uncertain, unknown Tomorrow.
The man stands there and does not notice
that the endless African night has already folded itself in its wings,
and all is wrapped in immense black Nothingness—
land and sky and water.
The man stands there tirelessly peering even further into the distance.
All at once the immense black Nothingness seems to move,
seems to be coming to life.
Emerging from its depths
are all the galleys that sailed away long ago,
all the young men and women carried off or drowned centuries ago,
and slowly but surely they are approaching, rowing to the shore,
whose limit cannot be seen in the darkness.
But the man on the shore senses them
and for a long time is waving at them,
calling to them,
shouting above the ocean’s terrible voice.
And here they are—arriving,
already disembarking on the shore,
carrying in their hands their heavy fate, never fully told,
their unwritten history.
The man on the shore is leaping for joy,
hugging them all, kissing them all,
until he unnoticeably disappears, is lost among them.
The man merges with the immense mass,
the immense mass merges with the man.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Night has long since passed;
above the ocean shore the sun is rising again,
ruddied with joy and sorrow.

But tirelessly the man stands watching the waves of the ocean.
The man is immense; the ocean, small.