“He Fell”
The line gave way, like many things that day,
Had done the same.
They dangled there, tendons starting to tear.
No one at blame.
Over ocean, they hoped for salvation.
It never came.
One soul could live, t’other spirit must give.
Grip going lame.
Lose this, their life, make a widow this wife,
To earn his name.
He said, “Let go.” His partner she cried “NO!”
Honor the aim.
His hand released, a tear fell from her eye.
Salvation then came.
A good man fell, saved her from wat’ry hell.
She holds his name.
Crawls she aboard, mother with child adored.
Nothing the same.
Fade, loving eyes, well met, final surprise.
He felt no shame.
Beneath the waves, went beloved days.
Sought he no fame.
For life greater, he had given, gained!
Dark now his flame.
-- J.R.H.
About the Creator
Jack Drake
It is what it is.
Keep reading
More stories from Jack Drake and writers in Poets and other communities.
Tales of the Aurora Borealis
Who knew a solar storm could be so beautiful? Purples, reds, and greens shimmering in our skies like dancing ribbons. Hypnotic and enchanting, the Northern Lights have had us humans in complete awe for centuries. Which got me thinking, what did our ancestors think of the Aurora Borealis?
By Rosie J. Sargent4 days ago in FYI
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.