The Roaring Tempest
By Fiza Pathan
The thunder claps to the beat
of the sorrow that cries out from the deep.
The sea spreads out its wave like claws
to drown the vessel of the mariner─
yet the night full of fantasies moans to the call of the one
that braves the storm of the callous laughter.
Where is the boat of the fisherman who risks his life
to catch the food of the oceans yawning embrace?
Call out to the tempest and say that I
have bared my bosom to its roar and yet I see─
the sea froths at the mouth.
Let me marry the gale that
has run its course throughout this warning night.
The shores of the empty beach beckon the wrecked ship
to run its spine into the sand of changes─
but what must the wooden decks do but crash into pieces
and scatter its remains afloat over the waters.
I need shelter from the monster that raises
its hand from the waters in turmoil.
I have to swim away from the horrors of the sea
so eagerly awaiting me to enter my watery grave.
I cook some fish to eat to while away the aeons
that have formed the waters
which brings forth life in the form of its creative vomit.
The night is long but the light house is haunted
─shadows of dead sailors walk up its steps
to light the path upon which I have to sail.
Poseidon the god of the waters,
calm the hatred that you have in your heart
for the voyager who wishes to lie at rest
at the bottom of the sea.
Hear the wail of the storm
that bathes me in cold deaths watery caress─
don’t ignore the poet o tempest of the darkness
but serve me now to sink my bones
into your saving chilly arms.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: Google images/wikipaintings