maritime, i am

I have slept in the arms of the Atlantic.
I have knelt on the rocky shores of the East,
praying to tempests and raging tides
and to our sea lord, our Poseidon.

I have surrendered to the keeper of the light;
Peggy and her Cove,
where she nests on a bed of rocks
forged by shipwreck and erosive disaster.

I, of the Maritimes, have swam with crustacean
and prowled the moors and the wharves
of Tall Ships and tugboats,
where the ships moan and mumble secrets of the sea.

I have felt the sea and the sand and its creatures,
wrestling with traps and tanks,
and the fisherman’s greedy paws
as they plunder and pillage from the deep.

I have seen history at the hands of the hill,
at the peak of Halifax,
the Citadel that saved thousands from
the Mont Blanc and its freight.

In a place where the Mayflower blooms
and the Celts hoard the melody,
where the scent of seafood haunts the air
and history bleeds through the streets:

I am part of this breed.


(c) 2011 The Avalanche
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Contact: taylor(at)crookedteeth.org