Alas! I Have No Ship
Deep Blue, Salted-Wound Poesy
Alas! My friends, I have no ship.
I hear the sea call her plaintive cries,
And yearning wells up from within.
Sea-scent fills my nostrils,
I can taste it on my tongue.
My watering mouth is a homage to her depths.
I stand upon the shore facing the far distant horizon,
*Of the meeting of two blues who pretend not to know each other.
Crashing waves echo the chambers of my heart,
Slowly crumbling its walls.
The gritty salt water brings pain to an open wound,
And I grip at my aching chest with hands that
rather seek to take hold that old, 8-spoked, wooden wheel,
Or the rope that holds fast the sail.
To beat the tide and battle the eternal turning.
To glide across the surface of that great shimmering crystal,
Winds from each of the seven seas
Bringing mysteries that run their secrets
Across my skin,
Sometimes soft and assuring,
Sometimes course, biting, eating away at my thin exterior.
The gulls begin feeding on my spilled innards,
And the waters become stained with crimson blood,
Spreading like blooming roses.
The high and rolling waves of the unreachable far-off ocean,
Where land can no longer be seen,
Will eventually claim their victory,
And I shall be swallowed up by the Eternal Blue.
Oddly, I have sought it out.
It was my deepest desire all along.
These waters shall unmake me,
And I shall be remade, adorned in spiraling shells,
Like the jewels that litter the corpses
Of the deceased god-kings of old.
With a sunken sea-treasure crown I shall bleed pearls of great price,
And take long walks across the oceanโs floors,
Seeking its lowest troughs,
Wandering within kelp forests and amongst submerged ancient ruins,
Where now making their residence
Only strange aquatic creatures,
unknown to those land-dwellers,
who convince themselves of a firm footing.
The watery language of these citizens of the sea
Is now all I speak.
Then, after a while, I would retire to some dark cave,
Deep, deep within the heart of the sea,
Rushing, swirling undercurrents of deep invading my pours
Into the very marrow of my bones.
Reclining upon a coral throne of many colours.
In contemplation I would sit,
My thoughts awash with the same blue that fills my day-eyes.
No more would tears flow like rivers searching for home,
But would know in an instance their belonging,
Amidst that Perfect Blue.
Alas! My friends, I have no ship.
*Stole that line from somewhere.