Navigating Uncharted Waters Poem by Crystal Piatt

Wandering the unknown sea, lost and alone.
I know naught which way to turn,
On this dark and dreary night.
A left, or a right, or all ahead full?
Shall we raise the sails, and fly our colours,
And let the wind carry us under its wings?
Aye Mateys! Prepare to sail onward.
Let us see, what adventures await?

We have been sailing for months now.
Not a speck of land have we seen.
Are we doomed to be forever lost,
In this vast world of unpredictability?
A world that is, one minute, as calm as a clam,
The next, being a rising pool of cold and wet death.
Wait! What is that the look-out shouts from above?
'Land-ho, land-ho! Captain we are home free! '

'Set the anchor! ' I yell to the anxious crew below.
Three months and twelve days have we been at sea,
Rather than what should have been one.
Sent astray by the angry weather,
We have been searching for so long,
So many extra weeks then expected.
So little food and water left on board,
The land spied ahead makes the crew hoot with joy.

Now, with all gathered 'round the gang planks,
Ready to feel the soft sand beneath their feet,
The crew awaits their Captains orders,
To finally leave the confining decks of the ship.
I give the gesture and they all stampede.
Land, land, glorious land!
'Spread out! Search for food and fresh water.' I say.
Immediately they split and begin the quest.

Searching here, searching there and not much found.
Some fruit and some nuts,
Some plants and some bugs.
Not nearly enough to feed but two mouths.
My crew of thirteen, drop down after hours of scouring,
With nothing but a few pieces to show for their work.
All they can do, is sit in defeat and chew on the minuscule bite of food.
Everyone prays to find plentiful, inhabited land someday soon.

One of my crew wanders off from the rest,
More and more desperate for the food he so needs.
Returning much later with a single piece of fruit, the last on the island,
The crew quarrels, wanting some for themselves.
I yell and give orders to 'Halt! ',
But not a one listens and things get much worse.
Weapons are drawn and tempers rise,
I have no choice but to watch one of my men fall at my feet.

Though bound to happen, the mutiny is a great shock.
I watch in horror as the man with the fruit falls to the ground,
Covered in blood from his head to his feet.
His head bludgeoned and his abdomen torn apart,
The men stare at what they have done.
Slowly, we all return to the beach,
Each staring at the ground, completely aghast,
For none can believe what has just happened.

After they calm, I gather my men.
I tell them there is nothing to be done, for hunger bests us all.
This journey has dislodged us all from the people we are.
The distance, the thirst; the hunger, the worry;
It has all taken over, without a single forewarning.
'Twas not a thing possible to be prevented.
They all nod in sullen agreement,
And we gather 'round the body, of the friend we all loved.

All bow their heads in honest respect,
Around the fresh grave, far back from the sea.
I speak a eulogy for a man lost.
The men all pay their respects and slowly depart,
No longer wishing to linger around their terrible fault.
All are ashamed for what they have done
and will be greatly changed from this day forth.
We stare out to sea, unready to depart this isolated place.

Lying in the hot sand, sun shinning upon them.
No fresh water to drink and only dry food on board left to eat.
Bodies burning with heat, yet nobody swims,
For all are afraid, of the salt of the ocean drying their skin.
One by one, they fall asleep on the sand.
A rest greatly needed for them all.
So we all rest for another sea journey to come.
Shall we become lucky or despair even more?

Now awake and aboard the ship,
About to slave away in the scorching sun on deck,
We are preparing to set off once again.
All of us slowly losing hope,
Of seeing sweet civilization ever again.
Our families, our friends, even our pets,
Will we lay our eyes upon them again one day?
Or will we be, forever, lost at sea?

The deck is now finally abuzz as it should be.
Each crewman completing the tasks they are able.
The Coxswain is at the wheel, ready to set sail.
Readying the sails is the Bosun, running from bow to stern.
The Cook in the Galley, preparing a rationed dinner.
Such little food left that he'll soon have no work.
I stand on the bridge of my ship, watching it all,
Calling commands and praying for the safety of my crew.

Now on my midnight break, sleeping in my quarters.
I am thrown off my bunk and shaken awake.
The sea is thrashing and I can hear the storm above.
Racing on deck, prepared for the worst,
I cannot believe, once I arrive,
The sight that is laid before my very eyes.
I kneel down and pray to the gods above,
'Please, help us fight through this storm and come out alive! '

I hasten forward, almost slipping on the flooded deck.
Let me now, describe what I see;
Two masts lie broken, one top of the another on port-side.
Only one remains, yet the sails are now torn.
The belaying pins keep coming unfastened.
The life ropes are tied but are not secure.
The few lifeboats are crushed and the hatchways are flooded.
'Abandon ship! ' I yell with dispair, for all hope is now lost.

Jumping over the rails into the icy waters below,
The crew struggles for their lives as I watch, helpless, from the deck.
Some are dragged beneath the sea, never again to resurface.
The few others cling to floating pieces of, what once was, the ship.
Though those few may think they have hope of surviving,
The likeliness is that they will freeze down to their very bones.
Of those who survive and those who die I wonder:
'Which shall I be? '

I pelt to the wheelhouse to gather more lifesavers,
To keep my men from sinking into the sea.
About to abandon ship myself, I am knocked nearly unconscious.
I collapse onto the greatly flooded deck, unable to move.
Davy Jones is now waiting for me to join him in the icy depths of the ocean.
Before my last gasp for the breath of air that is not there,
The only thought I am able to muster is;
'A captain goes down with his ship…'