“You could timidly explore the coasts of Africa to the south,
but going west there was nothing except fear, the unknown,
not ‘our sea’ but the Sea of Mystery, Mare Ignotum.”
Carlos Fuentes,The Buried Mirror
Out
into
the Sea of Mystery.
Unrelenting weather,
currents,
winds,
sea-drift.
One day
west,
a squall far from shore,
whitecaps wash over gunnels,
decks flood with sea,
hatches welcome waves,
the bilge sloshes brine,
The navigator turns
from his chart.
The pilot
takes his hand from the wheel.
The rigger
lets the sails
flail and flap.
The captain shouts to his crew,
“Mates,
ride
the clean storm
home.”
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In honor of a dear friend who, after a long fight for life, chose to cooperate with death.