Catholic Upbringing

Circumnavigation of Ross Island

Once there was an island, home of bald eagle, osprey and muskrat,
but man got there and started sorting the sand and gravel into piles and hauling it all away
digging deep into the belly of the island,until only a question mark is left,
just enough land for a fringe of trees,
just enough to reveal a beach at summer’s end.

We put in the kayaks by the science museum
repurposed from a steam generating plant, now prettified
with a bright red smokestack.  The water is smooth
as we paddle upstream, under bridges, past the gravel
conveyor, and pilings from the old days when logs tethered
in rafts waiting to be towed downstream to a mill.

Now there is clever graffiti and a few tents of the homeless
and Sunday cyclists on the bikepath, although a dull roar
belies the idyllic scene, droning from vehicles passing over the bridges
and down  I-5 and McLoughlin boulevard, plus the occasional
closer whine of a waterskiing boat.

Nonetheless, it is lovely to be on the water in the sun.
An osprey circles, a big fish jumps, a dozen white sails
follow each other in a circle, surrounding an instructor,
it is enough to make anyone happy and I am
And yet,  there is doubt that this  redeemed waterway
is proof of recovery or an incongruency
in the greater story of human decay.

When we come back to the dock the same sunbather
is there as when we launched.   He is thin and gray haired,
stretched out next to his bicycle, wearing only a thong.
He could be a nudist without a suitable beach, but his gaunt
skeleton reminds me of the depiction of Jesus taken down
from the cross, a warning
for the acts of contrition to come.

9/13/10