Long after living and working at sea
old salts remain coupled to the water
It’s as if they’ve spent a lifetime married
to the sea and still dream of their love
for her while also fear her cruel fury
yet futilely wish to embrace her charms
as a man yearns for a mistress long gone
Their now-deaf ears still hear her siren songs
the promise of her whispers in the wind
together with onshore rolling whitecaps
which thunder hypnotically on the beach
and seek to lure them to her briny depths
Her telltale scent lingers in their noses
as they taste her saltiness on their tongues
the sight of her expanse from land teases
their memories of life on the water
knowing there’s no return to that life now
Death sweeps toward them like an incoming tide
and the old salts feel like helpless landlubbers.
Just a good old poem, filled with all that yearning. My god father was a Greek merchant seaman, born in 1890, Noti Savrilis. We hung out at least once a month and he loved to walk Piraeus and point all the various ship types. This was '66-'69 so there were still some big ships with sails. He gave me an eight pointed design on a piece of heavy parchment that had the major winds on it. I remember Meltemi, Mistral, Sirocco, Bora, tramontana. He helped my folks get a 10 meter sailboat, which we called Bora. Even as a 70+ year old man, his hands were like baked leather. Such a lovely man. thanks Frederick.
Love your poem as an ex-submariner in the US Navy!
Thanks,
Pepper