AS THE WAY DIVIDES
As the way divides,
Though the future hides,
What we then decide
Determines our lives.
My poem about St Helena Island:
ST. HELENA ISLAND
Sleepy island, almost as old as time,
Born of fire, and shaped by sea and wind;
Fortress against marching Atlantic swells
Crashing against your cliffs and hostile shores,
Then withdrawing with the roar of water
And rolling rocks, and crackling of pebbles;
Leaning steadfast against the south-east trades,
Sheltering your deep and fertile valleys;
Your mountains, greened by wind borne mist and rain,
With leaning, stooping trees shaped by wind;
Just touched a moment ago by humans
Now celebrating five long centuries
Of history since they first knew of you:
To us you are timeless and perhaps past
Your time, once a landmark on the trade-routes,
A fortress, a resting place for seamen,
An inn in the desert of the ocean,
And prison for Emperor, Prince and Boer.
Still kindly people live on so remote
An Island, and they celebrate its past.
How much shorter are our own little lives,
And how brief our time to enjoy this world!
So why is it we do not celebrate,
But so often merely mark, the milestones
Of the passage of our sad, sterile lives?
Two poems based on my experiences aboard RMS St Helena:
NEW YEAR AT SEA
At changing of the watch at sixteen bells,
When the new year takes over from the old,
Our ship’s alive on the Atlantic swells.
We seek a life of purpose and delight –
As by day she creams through indigo seas
And at night her wake’s a trail of moonlight.
HOMEWARD BOUND
Our ship pitches and rolls as it labours
Against wind and swell to its home harbour.
Her bow thrusts into each wave’s swollen ridge,
Crashing white each side and over the bridge.
I cling on tightly to the salt-caked rail
Against the lurching ship and tearing gale.
The wind and white-capped waves in endless rows
Slow our progress day and night; but rainbows
In the spray and the rings around the moon
Speak hope of safe return, to hold you soon.