Still
The oceans heave and seethe with floundering fish.
Despair of death destroying all their days.
Safe in my boat I smile a Godward wish
And soothe the waters with my songs of praise.
At home I dumbly dine among the dead,
Or share a joke with friends I fear are lost. My
net unused instead of widely spread
To heave and haul them home at any cost.
Serenely waiting on a distant shore,
He calls me in a voice I cannot hear.
Standing alone as once he stood before,
A perfect love that strives to still my fear.
Until I fish these seas all barren bare,
The loved one, all alone, will sojourn there.
©2000 George Ian Cullen
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