[Image from Pinterest]
[Inspired by Winter Aid’s “The Wisp Sings”:]
In her sleep, she turns, sighs
gentle as a sleeping babe, hair washed out
around her – fluid as her form, her temperament.
For easy to anger, this goddess blue; a darker side
she holds beneath the surface skin of waves:
the deep of Mother Ocean. Respect her
and she permits minnow-like humans pleasure
over her watery dermis, allows play
of surfers and boaters and toil, even, of fishermen,
reaching beneath, under her skin to her children
who thought themselves safe until netting;
until point of spear or hook into skin.
None can blame this goddess blue when she swells
with anger, fills her incomparable self with lust
for retribution, as oil, as waste pollutes her veins.
Then, not even beaches are safe, nor homes beyond them.
Man scatters, memories shattered by tidal rage,
the remnants dragged out to a liquid grave, sunk
to sandy rest with bones of sailors, broken hulls of ships.
Oceanic wrath subsides, though; slumber
overcomes the goddess blue again and she settles
back to calm; sighs and withdraws into ever watchful sleep.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]