Sitting in mother-nature’s womb,
Adrift it's the third of three days;
I think it’s the end of my days,
And this sea is to be my tomb.
My beautiful ship is long gone,
My captain and men are all dead;
Why didn’t I heed what the news said?
Why am I alive; me, ‘the one’?
Tom who’s dead has a wife and son:
Now at the tender age of three;
He’s fatherless because of me.
Good God, what is this I've undone?
Rightfully, the sea beats on me;
Yet, my soul refuses to drown;
Forced, the sea rolls toward sundown
Whilst I wished it'd take my body.
Faintly I can see the sunrise,
Approach on the slipped horizon;
I live, which is not suprisin’;
As rapture hides in its disguise.
She is saving me from death’s harms;
Days passed, - I’m not eaten by sharks? ! -;
Shaken, to live: my all embarks,
The sea keeps me safe in her arms.
She continues to provide and give;
And keeps me through turbulent waves,
A ship comes on this sea of graves,
And the tides imply I shall live.
Copyright © 2009 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem