To the Mistress of the Sea


Within the harbour wall the sea is black as oil
it licks the little fishing boats
it glides along the granite stone
where silver fish scales twinkle the moon

The steps as slick as frying pans
descend through water cold as graves
yet none of those lost fisher men
can place one foot upon another

That they departed once from here
in boats of wood from forests full
to trawl a scape unknown to them
its voids as empty as their souls

Nets outcast in open water
beneath them only inner space
the shore too far to run for home
between the dark and the days safe haven

Yet still they venture into night
that they may crave the mornings light
the call of gulls when nearer home
the white peaks of the tidal foam

The Sea does beg without a name
to those who feel unbound to home
it welcomes all for all are same
and all embraced though all unknown

© Wolfgar 2018

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.