
1. As I sit here on this rock, The sea sparkles with a sapphire Brilliance that is echoed in the cloudless sky; Breezes whisper softly, urging Me, compelling me to begin my quest. Hypnotic trance interrupted by my Putting this pen to paper, writing These words, as the gentle waves again Start their pleading, lapping against my Rock-seat, begging me to join them. 2. Then thoughts turn to the mighty Poseidon in his watery world, laughing at my Reluctance, appealing to Hermes, he who Sends this breeze to blow the smell Of the sea to fill my nostrils with The giddy, head-spinning scents that Go with travel and adventure. Is this what Leif Erikson or Directionally-challenged Columbus felt? This urgent plea of the sea to join it on its journey From shore to shore; to explore, to grasp, To know; a slave genuflecting at the seat Of knowledge? Columbus reportedly said that he Always followed the sea; until fame and Fortune with a stronger voice overpowered The gentle pleading. Well, not I! I will heed the sea's siren song, follow it To far away places, rocking serenely in Its gentleness or recoiling in terror from Its fury, becoming its bondsman as it Carries me on my voyage of discovery. 3. To Juanita, I vowed to return, Bearing things from that Old World, That land of sunshine and beauty. Spain! O Spain! In grandeur Your silky shores lie in wait for me. For centuries, like a lover, Waiting for me to come home; With long hair lifted by a soft, Puff of wind and one calloused hand, Gripping a mast in anticipation Of seeing the golden shores, Being caressed by the kneeling sun; Paying homage to your beauty. Tears fall, salting the already salty Codfish, this gift from Juanita; Her wailing sounding from afar: I mean, Juanita's tears for a lover who did not Love enough, who only loved the sea; Who sat for hours watching the Fishermen untangle their nets, Getting ready for another day. Provisions all aboard, quartered; Fresh water included on this forty- Foot sailboat built to follow That wanderer who sighted this world, Venezuela, from afar. 4. So, Juanita's true love departs—I depart For unknown places that are not Unknown, but to her heart only childish Fantasies at last set free. The bottle of cheap wine is smashed On the bow and I sail into the bay. Trinidad by nightfall is the goal; Pass Paradise Island—Isle of Birds; Their raucous chattering ringing in my head, Laughing at my dogged insistence; Mocking, in their shrill cries. Across the Atlantic, riding atop the Waves; this solitary journey pulling The blood up to my brain, my hair Standing on end, quivering in the salty air. 5. It is daybreak; a passing ship Hails from afar, sending up a flare. Soon a silver gleam dances toward me; A boat with someone asking if help is needed. But they do not understand that I Am driven; I must go on; I am not Fickle like the wind, dying to barely a murmur, Then rising shrieking, keening for the Lost souls, blown to peril in the deep. Realization that I should have brought Someone for companionship washes over me As the boat goes back to the ship. 6. This month, this July, brutal in its extremes. Driving sea-water taints the food supply, I am left with not as much as before, but the Salted cod stares at me derisively; And I begin to talk to it as if it is my beloved friend. A lonely sea-gull sits atop a mast. Rest your wings I say to it, and it nods Its head in agreement as the traitorous wind Picks up and ruffles its shiny feathers. My beloved Serenidad tosses in this wash cycle; The waves splash over the sides bringing more Poison to my meager supply of food. 7. Soon the howling wind bears down on us, Whisking the sea-gull away, Twisting the sky into darkness, and I am lost; Like Columbus' journey, with no radio, No fancy equipment to forewarn of storms. Sails tucked under, Serenidad rides along the Black, seething water and not 'til Another daybreak does the wild ride end, And I find that, by my calculations, I am up-north of where I should be. No land have I seen from that day; And now the moon frowns down from Its lofty height as clouds crease its Countenance, but the goddess whisks the Grey clouds away after I beg her and the Moon-face now looks comforting. Maybe now, I can sleep rocked In luminescent radiance, even though thirst Gnaws at the back of my throat. 8. Another day and indecision has me in a Strangle-hold; I eat the little I have Sparingly, with one eye on the predators Of this wasteland. More days drift by as I drift along; I thought a ship I did spy, but it Was not so, and I am plummeted into the Well of despair. It seems that all the angels have deserted me. Where are the gods when I need them? The holy ones must have given up and I have Been left to talk to the sun and the sea, The moon and the black hole that the sea becomes At night. 9. Drift I must, as my main-sail broke in the storm, And these arms are too tired to paddle against This current and too tired to hold this pen. I shake the last drops of water from my oil-skin, Praying for deliverance. The days and nights meld into one. The salted cod starts to put on a show, Swinging wildly in the breeze, but I dare Not eat Jaunita's fish; it would bring death. Death that I now see in the moon's face, That I hear in the gulls' cries, that I feel knocking in my head, pounding out its Song behind my eyes. Stupid being that I am; arrogance my undoing; Thinking the sea was my friend; Again Poseidon laughing; this time with Contempt, offering me up to Morpheus As another horizon looms.
Author’s Note
I wrote a 50-word poem based on a prompt from
and his Fifties by the Fire, which I expanded into this epic poem.I am a Firefly fan, so I decided to name the sailboat Serenidad.
Upcoming…
A celebration of motherhood:
Mother’s Love, 12 May 2024
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