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The ship pitches forward
Into the black water.
The deck band plays stubbornly
In the face of Death.
Because that's what deck bands do,
They play.
Tonight there is one other thing,
Tonight everyone dies.
Each person plays a private solo
That speaks of dispair and fear and loss.
Then everyone dies.
Their little world that has run
Always parellel to the water,
Dark, light, still or rush,
Always parellel,
Tonight slips into the acute,
Then momentarily into obtuse horror.
And from there to nothing,
Into silence and death,
Into a water-filled void
Echoing the songs of whales,
Who don't need a deck band.
Where Iceburgs float overhead,
Like clouds.
Here alone the little band
Yet lifts up in spirit
A hymn to God.
------
Paul Godfrey
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Shark
