A Voyage
for Peter James Russell
1944 - April 30th 2016
not out of Vergil
not out of Homer
this from a modern muse
oars moving quietly
under a half
moon
droplets spraying splashing that moon
far from here
amidst ice floes
jagged white
blue
against black
rowing with rhythm
strewing
diamond necklaces
amongst icebergs
floating in placid dark waters
by a fire on the beach not Aphrodite
shrouded in black a mother’s spirit waits
over hot glowing coals growing extinct
when drawing up on the shore he finally found
one last glowing coal where a mother had been
to cup in his hands an essence of all things
instead of a warm shore icebergs floating in the fjord
instead of Aphrodite
not even an imagined
Aphrodite or a ghost
oars moving quietly
under
a full moon
droplets spraying
a glance abeam
where in an ice cave
treasures
guarded by
a
silent dragon
he saw
recede
rowing with rhythm
given these thoughts by a modern muse
who sent them now north
to the far
north
far from the fjord
sailing into summer
far from darkness
until those days when sun stood still
when days start waning
each day riskier
much more than before
each day thinking of winter
both past and future
summer never returning
deadly for some who turned back
too late
dangerous for them
who went on
past midsummer's day
with scant provision
they might survive
while ice fishing overwinter
between knowing
and unknowing
sheltered under a boat
keel upturned
how many months
could they
count
when days were dark
no way to count hours
in between
silence
drags on
what warmth would they have?
with walls of stones beneath their boat
what oil could they burn?
assuming they could light it
what would they burn?
by an icy ocean
in only moonlight
stars wheeling above
between
blizzards and clear
nights
all phases of the moon
showing far horizons fabulous places
where giant snow creatures
played in moonlight
even a dragon with a golden fleece
he captured
when sunlight finally prevailed
Dick Russell
©
2016
