When we had first crash landed,
The island was a Godsend.
a refuge from the maelstrom
with fish and fruits to eat..

When a rogue wave swamped Electra
our lives were forfeit., I’d have swore
We latched onto a piece of driftwood
We paddled towards the shore

Past endurance and exhausted
We wound up in an inlet.
We blest the waves that pushed us
Up upon that foreign shore

We learned to live like primitives
with water sweet not brackish,
the island helped sustain us
while we sought help from the sea.

Some months now I’ve been stranded
With my hope of rescue fading
I’ve had no need of language
since I prayed before your grave.

I am lonely past enduring
With no hope of rescue coming
With Noonan’s knife I slit my wrists
I will not see the morning.