Jan 2017
VI**
No.
These books lie.
These words and these voices and
These photographs
Hoodwink us into thinking
Titanic is really gone.
No.
It was the Olympic, dear
Baby girl Titanic is still out there
Twanging lovely cello notes
And drifting with smooth propellers.
No.
Adrift like a ghost
Is she…
**** those photographs
They feel so untrue, because in my heart
I was there
I am there.
So I am drowned?
I am facedown in the water
Gasping for a breath my
Body cannot take?
I am dead?
NO.
My boy is still alive
I am still holding his hand deep
In the sea
Blue blue ocean
If lovely girl, Titanic, has broken
I am broken too.
No.
These books lie.
These words and these voices and
These photographs
Hoodwink us into thinking
Titanic is really gone.
No.
It was the Olympic, dear
Baby girl Titanic is still out there
Twanging lovely cello notes
And drifting with smooth propellers.
No.
Adrift like a ghost
Is she…
**** those photographs
They feel so untrue, because in my heart
I was there
I am there.
So I am drowned?
I am facedown in the water
Gasping for a breath my
Body cannot take?
I am dead?
NO.
My boy is still alive
I am still holding his hand deep
In the sea
Blue blue ocean
If lovely girl, Titanic, has broken
I am broken too.
From a series of poems told from the perspective of the victims and survivors of the Titanic tragedy. This is from the perspective of a disbeliever of the sinking of the Titanic.
