Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Santiago was his name

I woke up to my first dawn in a decade…
Oar hitting water, making music and no concrete structures up front
Except the huge palm trees swaying above the lakefront
And then he rowed into my vision,
A speck of object with life – a fisherman in his boat.
He rowed across the lake, and made my eyes follow him in gloat.
The speck grew bigger, while my mind wandered into Hemingway’s ‘Old Man and the Sea’.
Santiago! Yes! He was Santiago, the Old Man after the Big Fish.
He paused. I think he heard me call his name or, did he catch the beast, he was about to dish?
He resumed doing what was his best, he rowed steadily across the lake!
So close he got yet, never looked at me, avoiding every mistake.
His mind and eyes--focused on the Big Fish that he is yet to see.
A strong body he had. Leaning forward singing an Ailee.
The boat moved ahead.
Swiftly, steady, cutting through the algae ridden water’s edge.
Like the bird in the blue sky and beyond,
A determination in his pose, every muscle flexing in respond.
swift was his skiff, yet he was just a speck.
He leaned again, and the skiff moved again
but this time, it was moving away from me, leaving me behind with yen.
I stared at him, as he rode towards the edge for as far as I could see.
Was it the moist breeze or, the tear gland? I closed my eyes to trap all memory.
As he vanished from my sight, I wished him luck.
"May you catch a bigger one tomorrow in a cluck"

A certain silence prevailed and it brought with it a mysterious peace in me.
How I tried hard racing time, when time actually had stopped for me.

A certain silence prevailed and it brought with it a mysterious peace in me. 
How I tried hard racing time, when time was actually waiting for me. 

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