A SEAMAN OF SPECIAL LOT

A SEAMAN OF SPECIAL LOT

Lynn I. Sumler (1976)

I KNEW A SEAMAN OF SPECIAL LOT,

HE TRAVELED 'OR THE GLOBE.

HIS HAIR WAS THICK WITH NEPTUNE'S SPICE,

IT'S FRAGRANCE LIKE A ROBE.

HIS HANDS WERE STRONG, HIS PALMS WERE THICK -

THO HIS EYES THEY GENTLE BE,

AND IN HIS HEART WAS A LOVE SO PURE

FOR THUS DOTH TEACH THE SEA.

HIS MIND WAS WIDE, IT'S DEPTH UNTOLD,

IN SILENCE HE PERCEIVED -

FOR WISE OLD NEPTUNE SAID TO HIM

"NAY, WITH THY TONGUE SUCCEED".

HE WORE ABOUT AN AIR OF TRUST

TO BOTH YOUNG AND OLD

AND, THO HIS MANNER WAS QUIET,

HE WAS CONFIDENT AND BOLD.

HE HAD KIND WORDS WITH BIG, WARM SMILES

FOR EACH AND EVERY SOUL

AND, THO HE'D NEVER SPEAK IT,

WORLD PEACE WAS HIS ONLY GOAL.

HIS HEAD WAS HIGH, SIX FEET OR MORE,

HIS TORSO WELL ENDOWED,

AND HE HAD A VIBRANT PASSION FOR WINE -

FOR BY NEPTUNE HE WAS ALLOWED.

HE STAYED WITH ME ONCE, LONG AGO,

THO OF HIM I'D BEEN TOLD,

HE SPOKE SO SOFT OF SIMPLE TRUTH

AND MEN THAT SHONE LIKE GOLD.

"ACT AS YE FEEL" HE'D SAY TO ME
"FOR N'ERE YOUR HEART WILL LIE.

AND THOSE WHO LIVE ACCORDINGLY -

IN HEAVEN, N'ERE WILL DIE"

WE WALKED THE BEACH, AND THO SEEMS STRANGE,

I'D SWEAR WE LEFT THE GROUND -

AND WHEN I LOOKED INTO HIS EYES,

MY HEAD SPUN 'ROUND AND 'ROUND.

S'BEEN FIFTEEN YEARS, AT LEAST OR MORE

SINCE HE SAILED OUT OF MY LIFE -

T'WEEN THEN TO NOW, LIFE'S BEEN GOOD,

THO SPRINKLED WITH PAIN AND STRIFE.

I HAVE NOW A FINE, YOUNG LAD OF MY OWN

AND THE ONLY ADVICE I GIVE

ARE THE WORDS THAT MY SAILOR SPOKE LONG AGO -

TRUE WORDS ON HOW TO LIVE,

"ACT AS YE FEEL" I SAY TO HIM

"FOR N'ERE YOUR HEART WILL LIE.

AND THOSE WHO LIVE ACCORDINGLY -

IN HEAVEN, N'ERE WILL DIE"

　

written '03 after my Mother's funeral

Floating through my consciousness, casually glancing at events that shaped my fears and joys – feeling nothing.

Numbing the inner core of my being while my eyes strain to find some light .. deeper..deeper .. floating becomes falling, weighed down by the reluctance to accept the cruelty of ignorance.

Love .. a word to bring warmth to ones memory .. happy recollections .. family, friends .. most unaware of the selfish, discompassion that spills from their kind words – innocent of understanding .. guilty of ignorance.

I hear the rain dripping as I write .. reminding me of lonely evenings with a hungry void in the pit of my soul. A vastly deepened hunger I can not describe .. understanding separating me from the masses of sleep enshrouded, shallow and innocent victims of humanity.

Am I a victim .. must I suffer this pain to understand or is it the understanding that suffers in pain .. knowing they unwittingly crush with their clumsy carelessness – unaware of the disregard for anyone but themselves – holding themselves reverent by some secret code of distorted fears and desires.

Love – again warm and irreverent – justified in not so subtle piercing tones of self-reliant pride. Where are the children .. the lovers of compassion and truth? Have they all been trampled by the ignorant shallow sleepers .. are they hiding under the disbelief of knowing? I seek my own .. the crowd awakened .. the compassionate living.

Today

The pain of losing a loved one never seems to go away .. it dulls with age .. and sometimes it's farther back then other times .. but it's always there. After 40 years .. I can still feel the rip .. the tares of a bond, tho newly formed, strong and securly attached to my heart and soul.
The emptiness left is stll empty .. tho not as large a hollow .. the space being partially filled with another bond .. another child. A child with it's own space really .. special and precious and lighting my soul with joy. I am grateful for this child and in no way want to diminish my love by remembering the lost one .. the one taken from me and given to strangers without my permission.