The Promise

The Promise.


The sea was oily looking calm and dark
perhaps marine life had died and turned
it into a pool of nothingness.

I sat in a dingy in the chill of loneliness
wrapped in a banner used 1st of Mays by
workers, asking for justice and freedom.

Now their request didn’t matter the world
had sunk beneath the sea like a Titanic, hit
by the iceberg of religious zealotry.

24 tins of tuna fish and 18 litre bottle of
water, enough to take me to an island
I had sailed past and often dreamed of.

One morning I saw a dolphin swimming
along the boat it had sought my company
and I was no longer vastly alone.

Then time stopped, days didn’t matter there
were no tomorrows, dreams and reality were
one, and we heard the green gecko sing.

Then days returned the sky blue and seas
translucent green, the world had healed
itself and the dolphin was no longer alone.

I nailed the banner, with its empty promises
of freedom, to the mast and at sunset set sail
to the island of my dreams.