What sea is this–
That of winds it is completely void?
A sea–so calm, it beats in rhythms of new fear.
This sea– a field of weeds–
More than the earth can hold.
That far gift to sailors
Which gods present,
This night is not true–
For our compass, dear father,
Has gone askew.
Dear God, in mind I fear,
My pride set sail and left my soul ashore.
Yet keep steady helm–
Just an old sailor–
Tired and worn.
These bodies of bones and shriveled skin
Lay watch all day for light or land or home.
These men I’ve led from other prisons
Of steel and stone.
‘Tis October and the air does not stir–
Just one site of land
Only desperate eyes of hope assure.
“Hark”! a voice from high watch–
Hailed from the Nina
To the Pinta
To the Santa Maria–
A light, they claim.
Dear God, it is–
It’s freedom’s flame!
So What sea is this, dear Lord–
That brings a Promise Land for all.
James V Nicosia