She stands at the wall reflecting on those who were lost at sea names and poems and words connecting her to those poor souls and to me. Beyond those memorial walls the mighty Columbia into the Pacific spills whose depth and wealth have called so many to sail from Oregon's green hills. From the safety of their home they left for the great unknown where writers and poets travel every time they pen their spirit in word to explore what God and life has unraveled what pain, sorrow and joy have stirred.
Her kindness and her reflection move me to write my poems of wandering from a safe and tidy home to regions of imagination’s heights shadows, sorrows, or oceans’ foam. She reads and lives life’s poetry knows its canyons and desert sands she yearns only to be free of the noise and anger of badlands to smell the freshness of a cool and gentle breeze feel the air brushing her arms to look up and see the greenness of trees to be free from crushing and brutal harm.
I see her standing and watch her reflection there with seafarers, poets and lovers at peace where God’s creative breath stirs air and torments, terrors, and quarrels cease.
Author’s Note: My sister Genie who lives in a large urban area visited Astoria, Oregon where the Columbia river ends in the Pacific Ocean and local citizens have erected a memorial park with several walls of polished black granite that display the names of mariners lost at sea. There are also sentiments and poems about those lost souls one of which Genie photographed and sent to me. As I examined the photo I could see her reflection on the wall as kind of a background for the poem. That photo and my sister who loves nature and trees inspired this writing. I wish I could post the pic here for you to see why and how it inspired me.
Below is the untitled poem on the memorial wall photographed by my sister.
Weep not for me that I go to sea. I shan’t be lonely, though vastness surround me. The brotherhood of the sea shall be my family. The kinship of the deep my company.
Weep not for me, nor worry over harm. My heart stays with you, still and warm. In sunrise and starlight my hearth and home I carry you with me wherever I roam.
Weep not for me, whether bad luck or good. Tossed about in a shell of steel and wood. An ancient salt sea sails within my blood – I but follow its tide through ebb and flood.
Weep not for me that I go to sea: in the limitless ocean I am free.