THE EMPTY SEA

A man I knew painted the ocean:
Painted,
With the great broad strokes of colour
Elusive to the artist’s touch.

Hues mixed and blended by the motion of the sea,
Stroked exotic potions sipped amidst the wavelets;
And Kingston's chequer'd music.

Cord edged fingers,
In delicate meditation with Capstan and paper.
A trickle of blue/grey pleasure;
Stolen by the Caribbean breeze.

Payment to come later.

Men could lean against his word.
Draw joy from his laughter like clear water from a well.
Like water it sustained;
And grew things.

Taller than most, he walked within many.
Bare of foot.
Chino'd, with seaman's hair
He made swift passages to the hearts of men.

Journeying so,
He left no wrecks on jagged reefs.
No flotsam, no jetsam.
The long voyage of friendship leaves no detritus.
Only a void;
When the colour leaves
The sea empty.


Reg Kear © 1996.