Heartpen: Poems of a Cardiac Quill

Dunnigan

The ocean spoke to Dunnigan.

He heard it whisper

of courage and luck and trust.

Peering through his binoculars

at the vast, roaring Atlantic,

he listened to those waves sing—

neither mockingly

nor as a mother mourning,

but as a melodious beast

navies thought they conquered

only to eventually be devastated,

perhaps by the relentless tide waters

or perhaps

by other fools with boats.

The ocean showed Dunnigan

how small he was.

He swam in it, bathed in it,

and had nearly drowned in it

during its storms.

And did he fear the storms?

Not much.

Because they came and went

like people did,

aggressive one minute,

passive the next.

Dunnigan knew

he couldn't defeat the ocean,

but he could master his own spirit.

So, greeting the darkening sky

with a humble tip

of his captain's hat,

he set sail

under gray clouds.