Ana


The sky falls like needles on the hull
Sails bloated by Poseidon's breath
His trident's thrice-pointed head looks to us
Will this torment last all night?

Goods spoiled and bounty lost
Have we toiled and travelled in vain?
Value of trips outweighed by fear
What gold will scale to the life of a man?

Memories of heroes long forgotten
Odysseus never faced such tumults
What name is on our lips now?
Christ

Fields of wheat and valley hills of green
Sons and daughters and lovers
Homes built of stone, felled trees, and callouses
Left behind for prospects of riches

Tears of heaven or sweat of my brow, I cannot tell
Compasses are of no use now
Call the she-captain, Ana!
She makes her stand 'hind the helm

"Master Ana! Me sees our rudder off the aft!"
"Christ! I, Ana, cannot fight sans rudder. Christ!"
"Aye, Ana, what shall we do?"
Pray

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