Vicious Black

Deep black. Both in water and land. The creature had passed some time ago, washed onto the shoreline and dragged towards the rocks. Its size befitting the waters it came from.

Vicious black. Rubbery outershell and rusty from decomposition. No visible signs of passing, only the faint possibility of malnutrition.  Its smell at times pungent.  Set for the carving.

Knives passing through it, pulling out its think inched blubber, slicing flesh from bone, opening itself like a butterfly, until its wings were broken by men with pillars for sea legs.

The carcus lay on the melting snow, hands gloved and thick with residue. It seemed unkind, but necessary. There was pleasure in the knowledge that it would continue in another form. As an ongoing gift to curious eyes and to remember the company we keep.

This beautiful thing. This king of the ocean. This reminder of the gravitas surrounding us and the stark reality that all things pass.

All things must pass.


The following link contains graphic images of a deceased whale being dissected. Not for the faint of heart, or stomach.




Justin Batchelor