Land behind me, sea before me,
vast lengths of churning blues
are all that I see as the ship plows on,
splitting the waves like you would split wood.

Salt specks caked in my hair,
clinging as if it will never let go.
I scratch at my scalp, fingertips screaming
as salt burns in open blisters.

White sails pulled taught by wind,
straining against the ropes that hold
them from fluttering away
like oversized seagulls.

Every inch of the ship creaks,
creating harsh melodies,
a sailor’s lullaby,
helping him sleep through the stormy nights

The ship strains with the effort of
carrying her cargo and crew.
Heavy with the burden,
she protects them from the depths below.

And there’s me.
Climbing through the riggings,
looking over the rails,
for the fish I know are there,
that no one else can see.