The heuristic* of borders

When reciting your national epics,

Or acting Shakespeare in Mumbai,

Your heroes come to barbarian ports,

Do not let them imagine borders.

We like the comfort of our custom walls,

Where sea to sea is a mirror of sameness.

But truth is perpetually travelling.

Each return of the real is a stranger.

Every sojourn of the truth

By word (sense or sound)

is spurtive -

A sea bird on migration looking down

at a surfing flash of silver.

Its crossing is a revelation,

And each return a loss of control.

Whether you roll into the port of Dover,

Or pitch into Calypso’s (1.) hold,

Surely you will have understood.

No wave relies on absolute space

(just as science is mostly sophisticated doubt.)

Every sway still drifts forward

On Ocean’s mirror of shimmering calm.

That is the rhythm of sea things.

(1.) n. A sea goddess from Homer’s epic, The Odyssey.

n. A topical popular song from the Caribbean.