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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Salt Mine Under the Great Lakes

I follow the path of the salt mine
under the lake.
The antediluvian ocean that flew away.
Gathered its great clouds and terns,
and became mystery in the heavens.
Then I understood how ancient
the writing on its walls.

The seams with their white sentences,
so old,
no one can transcribe what they say.
How the ocean made
and remade itself over the eons.
Sheltered its animals,
and like a life unto itself
folded its soul into the earth.
Put its memories in the salt.

They taste like tears
that have fallen in my life.
Like the seconds
that have piled their sentences
in my bones
so that one day
something or someone
will resurrect me like this ocean
and say,
these are remains of a life
that burst into flame for an instant,
and left its imprint on the stone.
That is all we know.

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