chesterman beach

tofino sands move only for the water
hard as clay they refuse
to abandon the memory winds swept
generations ago without abandon.
those ten thousand who once knew
this broken peninsula as home
also knew the fir tips
salmon berry
miner's lettuce
but not by this tongue

its former names are lost to me.
above barrel waves wearing basalt
against this deep crescent
licked with salt and dead things bleached
these have no sound.
i learnt of sea grass sway once
how it stood as ocean floor forests
thick thick life
i learnt how all this left when europe arrived
but i learnt not the why
the company of these sands
are no longer a metropolis of sea otter
cougar
steller's jay.
daily now the white-head queen stands
waiting for the extinct rivers of coho
waiting for our inevitable leaving
atop the loneliest snag

and watching for the flash spark
of day snuffed out by our rotation.
i am not here to resurrect

the alberni clearcuts around their ashen bone scatter
i am not here for the perch purchase and the paving
of hidden drives to peak season units and backyard beaches
i am here for the kinnikinnick
the courting of tides
and dreams of naiveté
that time travel might some yesterday
set things right.