Summary: Adam, a boat, and a storm at sea. A poem about Adam’s fever dreams while he lay ill in “Elizabeth My Love”.<\/p>\n
Rating: K<\/p>\n
Word Count: 482<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Alone.<\/p>\n
All alone upon a glassy sea,<\/p>\n
With only the waves<\/p>\n
And the mourning gulls about me.<\/p>\n
Strange.<\/p>\n
So strange this green sea<\/p>\n
Upon which I sail,<\/p>\n
So calm without ripple or tide.<\/p>\n
The sun,<\/p>\n
So hot.<\/p>\n
It beats upon my brow,<\/p>\n
Searing my skin,<\/p>\n
Threatening to burn me alive until\u2026.<\/p>\n
A breeze;<\/p>\n
A tiny puff that tickles the sail<\/p>\n
Of my boat,<\/p>\n
Ruffling my hair.<\/p>\n
Then it\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n
Alone again<\/p>\n
Save for the gulls;<\/p>\n
There are three.<\/p>\n
They wail,<\/p>\n
Circling the mast,<\/p>\n
Giving me no peace from their cries.<\/p>\n
A cloud.<\/p>\n
A single, fleecy wisp on the horizon.<\/p>\n
No, two.<\/p>\n
Three.<\/p>\n
Relief pours through me.<\/p>\n
Finally, something to blot out the sun.<\/p>\n
But it is not to be.<\/p>\n
A wall.<\/p>\n
A wall of darkness.<\/p>\n
Angry clouds black as pitch,<\/p>\n
Barreling my way.<\/p>\n
The tiller!<\/p>\n
I need the tiller!<\/p>\n
I must turn the boat about<\/p>\n
Or be lost.<\/p>\n
No one can survive such a tempest,<\/p>\n
Not even the most experienced of sailors,<\/p>\n
And I, a mere novice at sea,<\/p>\n
Cannot hope to live through such a storm.<\/p>\n
Too late.<\/p>\n
I am too late by far, I know.<\/p>\n
My palm touches the smooth wood.<\/p>\n
The storm breaks over my head.<\/p>\n
Roaring, crashing.<\/p>\n
Bolts of lightning<\/p>\n
With rolling thunder hard upon its heels.<\/p>\n
The sea.<\/p>\n
The sea is boiling,<\/p>\n
Writhing in agony<\/p>\n
As if giving birth to some new horror:<\/p>\n
A Kraken,<\/p>\n
Or some creature<\/p>\n
From the depths of Poseidon’s halls.<\/p>\n
Water!<\/p>\n
I am in the water.<\/p>\n
The boat is gone,<\/p>\n
Lost in the frothing waves<\/p>\n
Where soon I too shall disappear.<\/p>\n
Die?<\/p>\n
Yes.<\/p>\n
Yes, I will die here;<\/p>\n
I can feel death\u2019s icy fingers,<\/p>\n
Hauling, tugging,<\/p>\n
Urging me down.<\/p>\n
Down.<\/p>\n
Down.<\/p>\n
Down in the depths,<\/p>\n
Far below the surface where up<\/p>\n
Is down<\/p>\n
And air is nowhere to be found.<\/p>\n
\u201cPa!\u201d<\/p>\n
Bubbles trail from my mouth,<\/p>\n
As the cry mingles with the salty brine.<\/p>\n
He does not come.<\/p>\n
Of course he does not come,<\/p>\n
I am alone.<\/p>\n
And yet…<\/p>\n
I am not.<\/p>\n
A hand.<\/p>\n
A gentle hand grips my own,<\/p>\n
Pulls,<\/p>\n
And pulls,<\/p>\n
Drawing me up.<\/p>\n
Up.<\/p>\n
Up.<\/p>\n
Up into the life-giving air.<\/p>\n
I cough,<\/p>\n
And cough, and cough.<\/p>\n
Through it all the hand never lets go.<\/p>\n
It is small.<\/p>\n
A delicate thing,<\/p>\n
yet strong.<\/p>\n
That hand,<\/p>\n
It changes.<\/p>\n
It broadens,<\/p>\n
There are callouses on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cSon?<\/p>\n
Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n
I blink.<\/p>\n
Light.<\/p>\n
Bright light flowing from a lamp.<\/p>\n
I am no longer at sea,<\/p>\n
But lying in my bed.<\/p>\n
\u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n
A grin,<\/p>\n
It tugs at his worry-lined cheeks,<\/p>\n
Sparkling in his eyes.<\/p>\n
Ill.<\/p>\n
I have been ill,<\/p>\n
Sailing rudderless within a fevered sea,<\/p>\n
But I will recover.<\/p>\n
I am tired.<\/p>\n
More tired than I have ever been before,<\/p>\n
But just as my lids close,<\/p>\n
I see her again:<\/p>\n
my savior.<\/p>\n
The owner of the hand,<\/p>\n
The one who saved my life tonight.<\/p>\n
And as I slip into a real slumber,<\/p>\n
I whisper her name:<\/p>\n
\u201cMa.\u201d<\/p>\n
~ Finis<\/p>\n
Author Note:<\/p>\n
I wrote this for a writing challenge on Bonanza Boomers; on there is was entitled “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”.<\/p>\n