Though Sky’s gone black,
Sea’s alight,
With a thousand burning brigs,
From a thousand bitter battles,
Fought here.
Alone.
I glide along,
With mindful mastery,
My keel gently kissing,
Debri and destruction,
Grave markers from those,
Who captained less carefully.
From the smoke,
And through the glow,
Another ship,
Torn sails,
Flailing in hot wind,
Without point or effort,
Bearing down upon me.
Pull the sails,
Throw hard the rudder,
My broadside to the danger,
Hoping through haze,
My humble Caravel,
Appears a Man o’ war.
Drawing near,
I see my fear,
Reflected cross the faces,
The weary hang,
Of sailors’ frames,
Adrift upon the water.
As I pull aside,
And watch them by,
No cries for help,
No offers lent,
Their ship sits low,
Their cargo heavy,
And I’ve my own to carry.
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