The Second Voyage - Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin

Larry Robinson Lrobpoet at sonic.net
Wed Jan 18 05:01:09 PST 2023


The Second Voyage 

Odysseus rested on his oar and saw 
The ruffled foreheads of the waves 
Crocodiling and mincing past: he rammed 
The oar between their jaws and looked down 
In the simmering sea where scribbles of weed defined 
Uncertain depth, and the slim fishes progressed 
In fatal formation, and thought 
                                            If there was a single 
Streak of decency in these waves now, they'd be ridged 
Pocked and dented with the battering they've had, 
And we could name them as Adam named the beasts, 
Saluting a new one with dismay, or a notorious one 
With admiration; they'd notice us passing 
And rejoice at our shipwreck, but these 
Have less character than sheep and need more patience. I know what I'll do he said; 
I'll park my ship in the crook of a long pier 
(And I'll take you with me he said to the oar) 
I'll face the rising ground and walk away 
>From tidal waters, up riverbeds 
Where herons parcel out the miles of stream, 
Over gaps in the hills, through warm 
Silent valleys, and when I meet a farmer 
Bold enough to look me in the eye 
With 'where are you off to with that long 
Winnowing fan over your shoulder?' 
There I will stand still 
And I'll plant you for a gatepost or a hitching-post 
And leave you as a tidemark. I can go back 
And organise my house then. 
                                         But the profound 
Unfenced valleys of the ocean still held him; 
He had only the oar to make them keep their distance; 
The sea was still frying under the ship's side. He considered the water-lilies, and thought about fountains 
Spraying as wide as willows in empty squares, 
The sugarstick of water clattering into the kettle, 
The flat lakes bisecting the rushes. He remembered spiders and frogs 
Housekeeping at the roadside in brown trickles floored with mud, 
Horsetroughs, the black canal, pale swans at dark: 
His face grew damp with tears that tasted 
Like his own sweat or the insults of the sea. 

	-  Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin


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