A chilly November
A topaz frozen in cast off
always protects my eyes,
so I may see in another way,
all and sundry. Time, through the
spyglass. There, a vessels torn sail, spied.
Where once she was perched on
peaceable gaze and lay, suddenly
her cloths seemed extended.
With no winds purpose but to careen
in spirals, unknown to those
underneath the shrouds.
A goddess there shined a stone of wisdom,
gifted from the moon. An amulet,
born of protection and
shared with the traveling men on board.
She had found little treats
in the galley~ preserves of peaches
spiced in cloves and honey;
one of the same heart, they played 'round,
stockpot and seven seas.
By now, far out of harbor. Inbound
and uncertain of the
conundrum concealed; for full and large
the burgundy barrels
fortified at bay~ tipped in flushed reds.
Fumes reached further, while each
plunging breaker brought on dangers,
more near. Exhausted, I
prayed over my carved talismans, to
draw luck from the wintery
shades; in many hues of robin egg,
blue~ to shield them from the
baseness of the headed boom. Still, my
history rests starkly
in my mind and cannot be shook. The
leather cargo on the
hold, a maple sextant to measure
angled stars overhead;
a painting in the Captain's cabin
of Portuguese water hounds.
Engraved cardinal points that went 'round the
bezel of the compass rose; leveling the gimble~
steadying thirty~two points.
But missing still, is the Skiff
with all it's passengers aboard.
The brigantine, with rigging on it's sails~ covered
in seize and hijacked swine.
Last seen bearing on six
hundred west; apart from their
destination, before vanishing
into mystery. However,
even in life's sorrows, I look through
emerald gems of the finest
waters, to forget the marauders
who buffeted my ship;
who took my eyes~ so as not to see
my lovely wife and daughter.
Only, forever to feel a void;
the essence of my ghost,
a vessel so dear~ Mary Celeste.
~Jessi (poem)