Sailor’s Happy Song

Drew Hurley

The voyage of man
is lonely.
Souls pass each other
like ships upon the sea,
blinking their fleeting recognition
with the semaphore
of a hollow smile.
An when we speak,
though seldom,
it is with the foghorn voice
of loneliness.

To break the depression
of dry-docked stillness
we sometimes spy another passenger
of the deep,
traversing our same channel,
and signal our common course
as we sail
upon the sea charts
of eternity.

When possible
we convoy with other maritime
souls set upon
a parallel course
with our own
and steam,
in tandem,
across the vast
uncharted sea of life
until our respective
ports of call
beckon with their
brief anchorage.

The sea is a frightful mistress
whose mornings mask
that terrible masquerade
called reality.
Her dawn may spawn
a blissful glossy sea,
and tempt us to play
among the urchins of the salty foam;
or she may strike at us
with the hideous terror
of her stormy might,
hiding her noon sun
behind midnight clouds
of passioned rage.

When the storms have passed
we rest our battered hulls
knowing that we are stronger
for having been tempered
by the agony of the wailing winds.
Yet in that terrible
silence that follows
this ordeal,
we cannot escape
the knowledge of our
vulnerable loneliness --
making us wish more for storms
than for peace and restfulness.

This constant anguish
of the sailor’s life
is but slightly interrupted
when our souls plot their common course
and sail together across this terrible
naked sea while we strive to reach
the refuge of some far distant shore.
Sailing thusly, with blinkers
constantly a-gag, we shred the
loneliness of mutual despair with the
albatross song
of hope and care.

Alas, life’s journeys
cannot be always shared
and, too soon, our bows
must point to ports on
different shores.
With the faint foghorn of farewell
blaring dimly upon the horizons
we respectively enter the
silhouetted images of love
upon the logbooks of our memory,
and pray that once again
the two of us shall sail
together upon the treacherous waters
of life’s seas.

Until life’s passage is complete
when our rendezvous with hope is met,
we shall content ourselves
with the memory of fighting
mutual storms of doubt,
and of skimming lightly over
the shoals and reefs of despair
with the whimsy of gulls upon the air
and fondly recall the love --
that was too fleetingly shared --
as we, together, have sailed
upon life’s sea.

Hoist anchor!
Be away!
Set sail for what e’er
tomorrow brings.
Oh, Yeah!

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Tuesday, 04-May-2010 14:47:51 EDT