December 10th, 2019

Sea Stories
by Lisa Bayne
The Painting: Gunnel Under By Montague Dawson

God may be in the details.
The rigging and pitch of the sails, the rope taut between
Adrenalin-spiked men wrestling with mountains of water that scream 
Mutiny against humanity
While life boats crouch quietly in their holds. 
A thousand miles away on a sunny afternoon.

Who hasn't ridden these waves, adding their own chilling details as
God of the Night Story.
Tales of falling, falling into the pathless blue waters,
Night upon night, year after year.
Of being trapped in a flooding cave with a small remnant who cannot
See a single survival strategy.
Of sitting at the back of a bus that rolls backward, steadily
Backward into the hungry river.
Oh! And the stories that come when we are wide awake:
The diagnosis. Or the call in the night, which is never good,
And suddenly the horizon tilts at 45 degrees,
Rolling the detritus of ordinary lives into forgotten piles.

We pull on the ropes until our muscles scream.
We keep waking up. 
We find an air hole in the cave or
Maybe a perfectly adequate door.
We bust open an exit and Let. The. Bus. Go.
Just breathe and do the next necessary thing.

Because this is our time,
Our place.
The wind howls, the waves rise and suddenly 
It is our turn to accept the challenges before us.
Like the heroes and adventurers that we are,
Like the heroes and adventurers who have sailed ahead,
We stand up to meet what comes with courage and tenacity-
To conquer it if we are able.
Because the life boats are not an option. 
Everybody knows that.