Blue-Eyed Sailor

TNjordThorskeggahe brass compass in my pocket reminds me

Of how far we have to go. Your blue eyes twinkle

In my mind, the myriad wrinkles a map of fjords

Laid down by centuries of joy and sorrow. Hands

Grip firmly on the ship’s wheel, spinning it

Like the wheel of the year, the seasons, the world

Which may seem to change little, out here on the blue

Neverending plain, but you know better. There are

Seasons here, like any other. The salt air has a tang

Unique to each. The herds of fish run at expected times,

Or did until we fished them out, wasted hundreds

Of your flocks with our mess and greed. The Sea-Gods

Whom you wave to as you sail, they have taken to

Ramming our land with their wrath, to get our attention.

You are more forgiving, Fish-Herd, but do you weep

Grey tears to see what we have done? Cod, near gone,

The bluefin but a sliver, the halibut and snapper hardly in

The nets. Do you protect the last few, in some secret

Underwater pen, waiting for us to give up on the

Emptied oceans so that you may breed again your flocks!

I hope so, Keel-Lord, though it is more than we deserve.

May we turn our compasses around and look into

Our own folly, and fish it down instead. O blue-eyed sailor God

Who protects each small family man in the tiny wooden

Boat, competing with the great machines, protect them still

Until we prove ourselves good shepherds of more

Than neverending greed.

 

Artwork by Thorskegga Thorn. She writes, "He is shown here with herring, gulls, and the herb samphire beneath the cliffs of Dover with the Roman lighthouse."

   with the Roman lighthouse.