For Rae-Rae Franchi, on her Birthday
***
The old stories have a rhythm
Like the waves of the sea,
Washing up on the dark sands of time
With the pungent scent of natural elements
And the taste of salt
–
They sting and refresh,
Bringing back the ghosts of hearty souls
Who lived it, and worked it,
And felt the tides in their blood
Like their own pulse
–
Vague things, undefined
Like the stars that drown in the wine-dark water
Or that melt into a pale October dawn
Or that grace an Admiral’s jacket
Shine out in memory
–
The blood in the tides is now unseen,
But it trickled down planks of British oak and tar,
And swords now left to rust in indifference
Once gleamed like shark’s teeth
For the defense of a realm
–
Who will remember an island’s son
Better than an island’s daughter?
The sea is mute if no one hears it
And the stories fade if no one tells them
But you give them new life
–
You are a bard of today,
One who treads the line between past and present
To keep the heroes alive who might be dead to us
And to give shape to the consciousness of the future
Through that which is timeless
–
You have a gift, and are a gift
