Poem: 'Seaglass'

 by Dawn Sands

And further back一say Icaros out of Greece,

Churning the sea with wings that asked release…

一John Ciardi, Elegy for a Seaman

Stories penetrate ocean’s glistening sheen,

freshly devised, intricately crafted

by unsuspecting scribes.

Slowly, they descend, fully submerged,

spiralling through fathoms and fathoms of history

towards their underwater cemetery—

obscured by antiquity’s subtle sheet of sand

masking forever those delicate tales

and laying to rest their authors;

oblivious in death as in life.

But we twist the narratives gliding down through history.

We feed on seaglass, Icarus’ treasure

and we rewrite Caliban,

imprisoned in his own fortress

by the enemies of the sea.

We exist in a timeline where the Grail does not want to be found,

and the mad king has his demons

like you do.

We carve out their caskets in ink, not stone,

let the liquid that stems from our nibs

wash over history’s chains

and uncover the shadow of their lives.

We free Caliban

that the seaglass of the future

may be set free too,

for the legends of yesterday

are the lives of today

and do fathoms and fathoms not make their mark?