Hope Nothing remained of the ship after the wreck. The body swooned; the scores of rafts strewn. Most passengers were gone. Some found their lifeboats. But one drifting afloat. The swimmer to wear out. The eyes missing on their view. The dotted green at the far end that seemed promising disappeared. The night sky, and sunlit heavens wore the same ashen faces. Before the final stroke into oblivion, a lone plank, riding a wave’s crest – like a javelin from the clouds aimed at the swimmer’s grasp. In an immortal clutch, like an artist’s brush, the swimmer seized the splash and revealed colours, which colliding with the grey and gruesome waters, released a reclaimed breath, and a revived surge.
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