McDougall's Voyage

High aloft, in ancient timbers
Eyes strained for the new day's light
Stood McDougall, bare shouldered
Clutching his mother's cross of pearls.
Mind adrift, terror in his Soul
For he had withstood, had weathered
The Storm within his heart
The clashing, windswept eye of the Hurricane
And the torment that it had wrought
For Old McDougall, rummy that he was
Had forsaken all that he had once
Held Holy, had caressed upon his bossom,
Passed among his friends
For now he was ALONE, an orphan on the Wind!
The Storm within came quietly,
On cat's paws it crept to where he lay
It laid its wretched hand upon
The Soul of McDougall's beliefs
And drank to all his Sin!
The Winds of Yesterday blew
Madly across his chin, the harsh rain
Of the Sailor's tomorrows, blew
Harshly, cast about by the grey, somber wind
Tearing Old McDougall's mind
As a lion would a hen
As if to say, unconciously, to try
to speak again
You old sot, you waster of Life
Get back to where you belong
Be off with you again!
The nameless storm had shaken him
From bed, within the gin
And as his shipmates before him
He walked the stairs, he leapt upon
the deck, eyes straining for his Savior
Who had left him once again
His faith now fully shaken
His tired eyes searching, for The Sign
That he was dreaming, and the Terror
Not within!
So he grabbed the ancient netting,
And climbed, and held the frozen ropes
To escape the icy winds
And the Terror deep within
'Tis a lonely way to sail,
And a frightening way to end
But Old McDougall keeps searching
His back against the wind
Clutching his mother's cross of pearls
From the Terror
Deep within

© Copyright 1996 Roger A. Lipe

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