‘1752’

 I will hold you through the night
Through the storm and through the rain
Like Franklin’s dampened kite
Caught suspended high in flight
Far above the flooded plane:

Where the clap and thunder merge
And sparks of lightning sail
To filter, cleanse and purge –
With their scattered static surge
And a fierce rebuking gale.

Where traversing the expanse
With their canvas open wide
And their gaff set like a lance –
For a bloody medieval dance –
Hopes and fears collide.

Where jibing quick around the moon
And tacking to and fro
A vessel mounts the cloudy dune,
Trims its sail, and hopes that soon
The sight of land will show.

Where below with hull beneath his feet
And the sheet line in his grip
Benjamin guides his battered fleet;
The remnant storms could not defeat
– His brave and cloistered ship.

Where the travelers eager eyes,
Dissect the Ocean’s spine.
Then Reform and analyze
The scarred, discolored, line
Where the peaks of vertebra rise.

Where the dreamer hangs his key
And swings it toward the door
That hides beyond the sea
Where the latch and turn agree
And hinges reveal the core.

I will hold you through the misty grey
I will lead you through the dark
– Above the trees that bend and sway;
Below the stars that light the way –
Where the dreams of night will spark.

© Jeremiah Dowling 2012

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About Jeremiah Dowling

I write poetry and take crazy pictures in an Orange Chair all over the United States while reading amazing books.

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