~Nantucket Sleigh Ride~

(Whaler’s Lament Part III)

Our longboat was pulled along a darkened sea

We, like ghosts of whalers before, were mounted upon our splintered seats

The whale pulled us windward with a tremendous hate

Its tail flung water in several white-capped waves

And they smashed upon us, as-to taunt and hamper;

Alone the whale swam, on a mission of its own

Pulled us, pulled us – through the dark and wet

As we rode, images of you dear Maggie appeared on the waves crest

You seemed to speak to me, “I love you Samuel, infinitely”

Your voiced muffled as the longboat continued to sway and creak;

The whale nodded its head, as–if agreeing to continue the chase

The oarsmen’s hands, now bleeding – the harpooner summoned –

Readied in the bow of the longboat, bloodstained shirt, calloused hands, weathered face, oil-stained boots - his life’s station

We are here because of you, whale - the Nantucket Sleigh Ride continued;

Years of whaling rides upon my dreams, the nightmares – nighttime screams

I call out for you Maggie and our children, to draw you to my heart

But after nearing the shore to see you all, I row back out to the New Bedford

Unfaithful in love, kept secret by the un-mourning sea water

A landlubber’s life a student, the whaling life a tutor;

Deep with its first dead, like the lamb lead to slaughter

Robbing families of their dear ones

Like grains of aged sand – runs in the veins of darkened water

After taking its first whaler’s life, it hastens the others –

The ones who quickly suspend their wayfarer deeds, now ended;

It is in the small things that I am blind –

Our children’s first steps, their first words; holding you close . . . no longer wait for thee

Somewhere, somehow, the joys that I knew, rode out with the tide

I have often wondered, what did you see in me?

Was it my touch?  My smile? – now all hidden, from the beauty of your eyes;

My thoughts of you quickly disappear, even if only for a moment

As we continue the chase – “Mr. Right Whale, we’re going to be picking an iron harpoon out of your liver!”

“Come about all ye oarsmen, come about   . . .

Copyright © 2006 Tinka Boukes & Dennis O’Bell

Whaler’s Lament

~Whaler’s Widow’s Lament~{11 }