The Wreck of Maghareds Heart - An Epic Poem

I see her lying there
at anchor
listing sadly, her
stormwracked, weather battered hull
rolling with the incessant tidal wash,
barely afloat,
her sails torn and rent
drifting in dirty tatters over the unkempt wooden planking
of her decking.
In my minds eye I see her
this sailing ship, this masted, deep sailed warrior of the sea
new born
bright as the sun
whole and strong,
courage and joy shining in her burnished timbers
dancing in her crisp, white
wind filled sails.
And now she lies discarded
vying with the other flotsam and jetsam
of the harbour and
she cries out
for attention.
I feel a deep and wrenching grief that
for so long
she has been neglected,
abandoned,
cast aside.
As I move towards her, stepping carefully
I see between the thick, rotten planks of the jetty to which she is chained
glimpses of thick aquamarine sea
and darting, frantic fish
frenetic, busy
roiling with directionless purpose
and I shudder at what was
and lift my eyes to what has been
and what will be.
I see the obscured beauty
in her lines and
my deep grief is lifted somewhat by hope and
admiration that this timber old boat has withstood the passage of time
and the advances of youth,
yet still retains her dignity and courage
where all others sink and founder.
“Permission to come aboard,” I whisper reverently
and I feel her wake at my touch
like blood running through veins
her timbers respond to my weary and wary tread.
She has potential.
She has grace.
She has dignity.
In her broken shell lie untold treasures
and the promise
of freedom.
I make my way to her bridge, weaving
carefully through the detritus of age
scattering scavenging seagulls skyward
as I come close to her heart.
I open the door with a rusty squeal
and am standing in dim, musty
cobwebbed gloom.
I see the dust but hear the sounds
of her soul talking to me across the years
of life and love and lost longing.
No human hand has touched
this wheel with love for aeons,
its whorled timber spokes radiating from the strong brass heart
alive in defiance of her abandonment.
No human soul has been here
for years and
she has lain, bereft of
kindness and love,
deserted by I, who once called her home.

I hesitantly stretch forth my fingertips
and grasp the dusty silky smoothness
of her
and feel the yearning longing emptiness
inside her
and am lost in memory
of the wholeness that once was.
I gasp deep bellied anguish
and tears roll onto the rough planked floor,
echoing the deep beneath my feet
and I am lost
for want of wholeness and purpose.
The knell of the ships bell
recalls me to my now and I grasp the wheel with
both hands locked.
This my wheel, where I can be captain
again.
This my boat, where I can begin my journey
Again.
This my life that I choose -
with love she will live again.

• Favorite
• Report Concern
• Share This
  • Facebook
  • Twitter

Add your comment

You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.

Tags:

abandonment, epic, grief, jetty, journey, life, love, nautical, poem, sea, seagull, ship and symbol