Here is the poem I made mention of in the prior post. Typing it onto the computer is the first time I actually read it through – I know that sounds strange since I wrote it, but it was one of those times when the words just poured onto the page and I really had no time to comprehend them. I must say, I’m actually quite proud of myself on this one. This is likely a direct reflection of my sailing experience. And, without further ado… have a poem. I don’t write them often.
NOTE: I know this skips back and forth between first and third person, but I tried writing it both ways and it just didn’t sound right completely one way or the other, so I left it mixed.
(The picture is just something random I did in Photoshop some time ago. Just felt like it fit the mood of the poem)
THE SEA-FARING (MIDNIGHT MOON ON INKY WATERS)
The sea bucking beneath him, he stares out into the void
the star-speckled canopy of dusk covering the sky.
The mists gather on the smooth waters below,
concealing the dark abyss from sight
as the bow cleaves through the fog.
Not a sound stirs the air
as he drifts.
Drift as those do who find themselves
lost in the silence.
The silence of the endless sea.
But even in her reprieve, the sea speaks to the soul
Questing us to search our deepest places,
find our darkest secrets.
We are taken.
A hand on the salt crusted wheel
we only believe that we are the issuers of our own fate.
Like a shell in the hands of a child, we are held to the ear
And the universe waits
Waits for us to declare our path.
We give our answer
Shout to shatter the calm
And then she laughs…
One cannot be certain.
Lightning splits the sky in the distance
A rumble tears down the peace.
Waves begin to slap at the hull,
And the fog breaks,
Afraid of the sound.
The sheen of ocean glass begins to ripple
Each ring growing larger.
The bow rises to the sky
Then crashes down
Reacquainting herself with the familiar waters
The sails fill with the sweet sea breeze
The ship lilts and he holds the helm with a steady hand.
Sea legs remain sturdy as he steers into the storm
A smile on his face.
Rise into the air
point to the dark clouds above.
Dive into the white-capped waves.
Water dances onto the deck
in clouds of mist
that crust the wooden floorboards
and gather at his feet.
He only smiles and looks ahead
lured into the heart of the storm
like a magnetic pulse
Calling his name.
The winds drive him onwards
An arrow piercing the night
Cold and brutal
Hard and unrelenting
Beading against tanned skin
Blinding flashes split the night
And then all is calm
As if nothing more than a dream
The only thing that declares otherwise
Are the pools on the deck that reflect the darkness.
Above, the clouds disperse
Leaving him alone with the stars.
High in the sky
The moon smiles down
Her pale light
Showing him the way
Then, there it is
In the distance
The black, gap-toothed vision of port
On the horizon
Swift and soundless
The ship slides through the water
Brought in on the winds
The water like glass below
A pool of black ink
Reflecting silver streams of moonlight.
That silver disk
Her pale face shimmering on the tide
Leading us home
Casting us astray
Teaching us to listen to our wayward souls.
And on the water
We will find it.
Caught in the throes of the soundless abyss
With nothing save ourselves for company.