Mystic Journey: Air 1 Poem by doug bentley

safely through the tropic of cancer, the Amazing
Grace docked here but a moment. with black moth
puffs of diesel smoke from proud stacks painting
bold springtime sky it boldly steamed forth

into the star-soaked south china sea, manifest
destination Elsewhere. farther south into
summer, west in day it was blown, to a tempest
of tsunami seas. there, tropical typhoons threw

up sheet lightning strafed thunder blasted
wind. razor rain sliced down in death curtains.
like a blind outstretched bat with wings
of leather filling terror sky it parted

him from his past. a shadowed scene
scanned in rear-view mirror, the metal fog
of his memory vanished. he was disintegrating.
alive he was, but only as alive as a lone note

from someone strumming a banjo who cannot
be seen behind a door that blocks out light.
a time of terror to whiten even the devil,
it has no counterpart in this life, no parallel.

like the ageless stone statues which stand in
a ring round easter island the weightless crew
stood up on deck, facing sea, wondering when
the black bat would swallow them. it withdrew,

as if by command. then marble sky took on
luminous sheen: scrubbed, wiped, polished
clean, a crystal bowl without; within,
reflections reflecting reflected. stars glowed.

the moon, a globular mirror, seemed open
mouth of solo trumpet seen under spotlight.
then it became a heart. pulsing light shone
around the ghost ship, opening second sight

in the crew; hearing too. their eye
sockets became bells, ear caps coral.
in sympathy with symphony of the sky
the crew, transfigured, crossed equator.