Gordon W. Belling

SHIPS THAT PASS AT NIGHT

In fading light his eyes were closed as he awaited sleep,
but restful sleep is seldom found as wartime demons creep.
So many times he’s sailed his ship upon the stormy sea,
though calmer waters he had sought for tranquil harmony.

Yet someone once had seemed to call from one old sailing fleet,
perhaps a lady owned the voice and they would one day meet.
But came a twist beyond the twirl within the wave of time,
until just astern a lady stood reciting perfect rhyme.

But then his ship had floated back toward the turbid sea,
(though it’s been said that ships uncrewed will find a common quay).
Without an aim he’d hoist the sail ‘til heading back to port,
then stepped ashore with sullen care and all his senses taut.

Among the castles he had lost his dreaded curse of fear,
with all the demons that had drowned when he’d been drinking beer.
But then, the lady with her rhyme was cause for him to dwell,
was she a ghost, perhaps a witch who’d served a magic spell.

Again his name was softly called from shining spheres of white,
the words of song which he had seen were flows of mauve delight.
And there the lady by his hand had taken him inside;
he heard the rhyme as heard before but turned his head to hide.

But while the aura held him tight the lady showed him chi,
where she had coached the way of calm and words of poetry.
She said goodbye and while they hugged and held the tight embrace,
right in she reached and touched his soul to put it back in place.

Lo and behold, he’d fallen fast into a sleep it seems,
perhaps the lady with the rhyme had fixed his broken dreams.
‘cause now calm seas is what he sails, he stems the surging tide,
and while there’s rhythm on his mind, the ugly demons hide.