Cuban Sunrise Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

It is still dark in the west
eastward a faint glow
glides over foggy seas

Dark shapes emerge
fishermen in wooden sloops
row slowly
as the world turns
gold and pink

Sun climbs high quickly
Sea birds send signals
Of where the fish are

Men handle long bamboo poles
Skin rough, calloused
sharp hooks and knives
laid neatly in rigs

Boats fan out in search of luck
'buena suerte'

Hovering above the waves
decaying spirits
once descended
to watery graves
because their luck ran out
float unnoticed

Flying fish
and seagull caws of morning
send the signal

Time to crawl to sunken wrecks among waterlogged boards
slime covered rubber floats
deflated long ago
resting on the black, cold sea floor

An errant bottom feeder
ignores persistent gnawing sounds
chewing, nibbling, very faint
inside a large old stubborn net
wide enough to surround an island

Unseen teeth gnawing
slowly tearing long enduring bands
trapping life and fish

Black seafloor
much too cold and harsh
for breathing creatures
only fit for the unsung, unremembered

Every night, every day
failed in life
spirits gnaw below
while leathered fishermen pull in their meager catch

Another loop broken
net frayed unseen, unnoticed
unheard, the chanting
'poco a poco'

Island sunrises
Come and go
men die
children grow

None hear
the gnawing
on the ocean floor

More spirits join the crew
more bodies descending
work almost finished now

One morning
much like any other
the net will rise broken
unable to hold or trap life

Spirits, freed from labors
to hover, watching
as pink and golden rays
greet the Cuban sunrise.