| General Poetry
posted January 17, 2018
I woke, adrift on restless waves
I woke, adrift on restless waves,
no memory how this came to be;
a vast horizon stretched before --
the boundless fields of churning sea.
The sun was high, but found me cold
as water clung to sodden skin.
I shivered, lonely and afraid,
consumed by hunger deep within.
How tiny seemed my boat and I,
mere specks upon the rolling tide;
we perched atop the ocean swell,
awaiting cause to sink inside.
I drifted, aimless, pinned by fear,
and longed for lands I'd never know.
The row-boat wandered ever on,
a servant to the tide below.
I rose again from dreams of loss,
aware that I had slept once more.
The boat creaked on, beneath my head,
my feet were splayed upon the floor.
The ghosts that haunted fitful rest
receded as my vision came.
Again, I glimpsed the bleak beyond,
but something didn't look the same.
I saw a symbol at my feet,
upon the weathered, ancient wood.
It pointed out towards the bow --
where I'd have seen it, if I could.
But who had carved it? Was it I,
before, in times I'd now forgot?
With what intention was it placed?
And, if I made it, then with what?
I had no knife or tool to hand,
the boat contained just me and it.
I stared and wondered, mind alight --
no explanation seemed to fit.
The marks were smooth, but still felt fresh,
as if carved out by recent hands.
And how they seemed to meet my need --
they beckoned out to distant lands.
Madness! Madness! Doubt returned,
but I'd no time to hear its voice.
Besides, adrift on endless seas,
I hardly saw a better choice.
With options slim, I seized my fate,
and cast out for uncertain shores;
my fears fell silent as I rowed,
their whispers drowned by plunging oars.
Perhaps we'll meet when I arrive,
and I will know this story's end;
'til then I plough the boundless fields,
and hope returns each breath I spend.
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James H. Oldfield
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James H. Oldfield
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