The WakeA Poem by David Lewis PagetWe’d been at sea on a cruise ship, Some days to Paradise, An island in the pacific Of beaches, trees and spice, But storms, they were foregathering Not just for the ship at sea, For frost with us was travelling Inside Caitlin and me.
With eyes averted we rarely spoke There were demons in my head, For she would flutter about at night Not join me in our bed. The ship ploughed on through a restless sea, While the clouds outside were grey, And I began to regret that we Had chosen this holiday.
I woke each morning before the dawn And not a word was said, For Caitlin lay, facing away On the far side of our bed. I’d roam around in the early hours The silent, deserted ship, But a life aboard alone, it sours By the fifth day of a trip.
The clouds grew dark, enveloped the ship And mist lay deep on the decks, While down beneath the fathomless sea Lay a thousand sunken wrecks. A thousand wrecks of hopes and dreams That started away like this, Lost forever beneath the sea At the lack of a touch, or kiss.
We sailed, we sailed, by God we sailed With our heartsick contraband, For days we sailed as the storm winds railed But we caught no sight of land, We caught no sight of the what-we-were Before, when our world was new, For love was blind in the mist and wind That sailed with the cruise ship too.
Surely there was a meeting point Between the land and the sea, But the ship sailed on with our tempers gone, We sailed in misery, A day beyond our arrival point The Captain came to say, ‘The land has gone, there’s something wrong We were due there yesterday.’
Wherever we looked about to see The sea was all we saw, I’d turn and spin, keep my hopes within, All hope had flown before. We cruise around in an endless sea With never a sight of land, And nothing is left of what was ‘we’ It’s buried in sea and sand.
Buried alive in the sea and sand With a frost that shatters the eye, Gone with the hope of sighting land Between the sea and the sky. We’re drifting now, for we’re out of fuel In a world of liquid pride, With she content at the prow of the ship And I with the wake that died.
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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