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The New World
When Christopher Columbus sailed
the ocean blue in 1492
conquistadors were chasing the central stars
into the limelight of ports.
When Christopher Columbus sailed
the ocean blue in 1942
the apocalypse of a people (natives)
loomed in anticipation, cresting in waves,
to astonish the absent-minded.
Armageddon of natives, catastrophe of culture,
the destruction of worlds
is an unfortunate normality
in the arrogance of adventure.
Man of Europe, of so-called civilized devices,
became corrupted by the cool of cooing coins,
so fascinated with sculptures of gold
did not check the sacred temples for holiness
but merely took objects of their fancy.
Sometimes I regret
the sea’s lunar trance,
for, oh, the Moon does forget
not everyone is equal yet.
Image from Wikipedia
The Pilgrims
When the minotaurs of religious innovation
cast themselves into the Atlantic,
they cast a line into a stolen future
and hooked a land already occupied.
Were they pilgrims
or ambiguous astronomers
angling the apprenticeship of the stars
under an authoritarian sky?
Were they pilgrims
or propitiating prosecutors
who thought themselves victims
as they damned an entire clan?
The Original Nursery Rhyme:
I Saw A Ship A-Sailing
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea;
And, oh! it was all laden
With pretty things for thee!
There were comfits in the cabin,
And apples in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold.
The four-and-twenty sailors
That stood between the decks,
Were four-and-twenty white mice
With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck,
With a packet on his back;
And when the ship began to move,
The captain said, "Quack! Quack!"
Image from Wikipedia
Now, man climbs higher than the ocean floor
for their ships can sink no more -
made of metal and fire,
on great shots, they take to the sky.
"The Final Frontier," my backyard is called,
a sea without salt or oxygen,
instead filled with stars that are as merciless
as creatures beneath the deepest waves.
Their rockets have long soared past even me,
cold eyes set on the next shiny thing:
Jupiter, Mars, Neptune, too -
oh, they have gone too far, past even me.
I turn from Earth, to watch their balloons roar,
as these explorers fade into such small glimmers
that even I cannot see into galaxies I do not know
and, oh, the moon mourns beneath me.
Bibliography:
- The Real Mother Goose. Blanche Fisher Wright. Project Gutenberg.
Author's Notes:
This final story mainly expresses the laments of the Man in the Moon after the discovery of the New World. It also continues to man's new area of exploration: outer space. He is excited for man's newest knowledge, but he is sad to watch people go further than even his eyes can see. After watching mankind for so long, the Man in the Moon is disheartened to see them leaving - into a vast space that he does not know. This is the conclusion to his little set of stories. I hope you enjoyed them!
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