BY MICHAEL DOM
There is an echo even now. Awakening
From haunted dreams, late in the night
A memory of a dinghy ride by starlight:
The noise of the motor reverberating
Off the coast, above the rushing waves,
Cold and damp from sea spray and rain:
Phosphorescent glittering streams in
Our passing wake arise from unknown
Depths as we skim their salty matrix:
Dark ragged hills like a rip in the fabric
Of a jet black sky and the ghostly white
Foam of the relentless Solomon Sea:
A shoreline strewn with the debris of
That unending war: A warning to steer
Clear off, but to keep a parallel course:
Speak not of crows for I have seen them
In a mist shrouded morning at Rabaraba
Where they held their nodding congress.
And Champion’s surprise at finding me
There, upon his arrival, was worth a
Hundred voyages into Anuki Country.
Russell Soaba writes: “A good poem indeed. Deeply intriguing as the Anuki Country itself, mysterious, yet ever close to the safety and comfort of the shoreline! Qualities that good poems are always made of are to be found here, in this poem.”
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