Both furthest north & furthest west
in all of America, we drove
through pouring rain

A sign on the side of the road
read Beach 1

After days of driving, driving
through Washington, Oregon,
we arrived at a beach we never intended to find

The beach where water flowed
in streams across the sand,
where a family of seals
swam close to shore, playing,
disappearing into the flat & endless water

I saw a bald eagle for the first time
as we drove through Washington,
I watched it fly above us through the window
clouded with raindrops,
I thought I felt patriotic for a minute or two

Though I’m neither birdwatcher nor patriot,
the solemn bird left me
with a strange feeling, which I realized wasn’t patriotism--
the strength & bitterness in the bird’s eyes
and its steady, prideful flight
belonged to no country

The feeling returned to me
on this beach of another world,
or of this world before it was

The feeling was that it was good to be alive
and that I would change nothing
about my existence,
A thousand agonies were worth enduring
to have seen that bird
and the first of all beaches

When the sky is brilliantly dark,
when freshwater penetrates driftwood, joins
the ocean on the first
and only necessary beach:
Yes, it is good to be alive