The Beached Dolphin

by Brett Rutherford

     After Archias, The Greek Anthology, vii, 214

Mammal among the fishes,
darting and flying atop
the salt-rich sea, dancer
to the sailor’s reed pipe,
up for your own sounding air
alongside the welcoming
sailboats, hail, friend Dolphin!

You carried the fabled Nereids
upon your high-arched back,
ferrying blithe spirits to Tethys.
You nestled lost boys to harbor,
shoving aside the hungry sharks.
Ever have you shown yourself our friend.

But now to see you here,
on land, I tremble. One wave
you never saw coming, leapt up
behind you and dashed you here
on the headland beach of Malea,
where no returning tide comes, ever.

With our own hands
we would have carried you
back to the churning waters,
if only we knew!

Who heard the song you gasped
beneath the unrelenting sun?
Does no god or spirit
look after you?
Who comforted your death?

Behind me, someone calls out,
“It is only some random dolphin,
and not the one you knew.”

I heed this not.
In the death of one
     we partake in the death of all.
In the friendship of one
     we partake of all friends, ever.
All tears and groans
     are universal.