Child of the Sea: a Poem
Rocked in the Arms of the Sea
The swoosh of the tides upon the sand,
The roar of the breaking surf upon a stormy day.
The freshening breeze and salty spray
Run deep within my blood.
Seafaring men of old passed down to me
A feeling of unity, of being one with the sea.
Let me stand in the bow of a fast-speeding boat;
Let me feel the wind in my face along with the spray.
Let me feel the chatter and bounce as we roar across the tides.
Let me relish the curl of the receding wake
As we leave our cares behind.
And when we reach our chosen port, and tie up to the dock,
Let me nap in peace beneath the sun
And feel the rocking, lapping tides as they lull me off to sleep.
For I am child of the children of seafaring men
And boats and the water run deep in my blood.
So when I die, pay a golden coin
To the boatman on the Styx;
And have him ferry me for one last ride
Until I rest, rocked in the arms of the sea.
The River Styx
About This Poem
Originally written in February of 2011, this poem has stayed as it was written. It was one of my 'gift' poems from my muse, and arrived on paper via my pen, nearly complete.
It is true that my ancestors hailed from New England, and several of them were seafaring men. Sadly, they were also whalers; a huge no-no these days, and a history of which I am not proud. But, what's done is done, and history is unchangeable, so instead of lamenting their trade, I focus on my love of water.
© 2015 Liz Elias