The Captain's God
Ruling a sea-bound ship is not quite
Like land. Close is piled on close.
All must be at peace or else
All will go down, yet hating happens.
There is no way to leave, no lands
To hare off on one's own to explore
Unless one takes, again, to solid earth.
In the middle of the endless seas,
No stone in sight, the Captain's God
Knows how to manage. Firm but kind,
He speaks with confidence, but not harshly -
The salt wind is harsh enough. There is
No room for ego, for overbearing pride;
The ship is too small and one must
Know when to hold firm, when to bend,
When to find a new course or all is sunk.
Every hand is necessary, even those
You may dislike. Only in the utmost end
May one be sacrificed, and it is better
To peacefully win them back. There is no
Green and empty glade to duel in,
So there must be no duels. The sea itself
Will have its way, and no plotted course
Is guaranteed; the winds change and the
Captain must adjust. The land-bound
Kings, they do not understand this way.
Mouths and hands are plentiful, and exile
An easy option. Njord knows the way to peace,
The softly spoken word that unbends a man,
Casts down his eyes, softens his pride,
Makes him nod reservedly, makes him
Go along, if only for the moment.
Teach us, God of the Ship's Wheel,
How to be flexible in the face of the storm,
How to set a new course when necessary,
How to fly with the salt-sea winds
And not against the flow of time.