At the Docks, You Shall Rest

At the Docks, You Shall Rest By Alan S. Villanueva Jr.

“Where do seas and oceans wander til they scare you out of this nautical crusade?” This I ponder while, on their palms, my ferry tours— forward… onward… without my first mate.

Your eyes of hazel were the sun’s shimmer, whose warmth none could ever forsake; behind them was a heart that would not wither, yet the truth remains: every light shall eventually fade.

Oh, how I’ll miss you dearly, young sir! With your captain, you sailed to the clock’s every sway: my navigator when fog hovers, but my ship has docked, and behind you must stay.

Though you’ve sworn the morn’s humor, down the lowest, darkest depths—horrors await: such that would shatter you into slivers and tatters; from then on, life only dug your grave.

Still, aboard, you clung with fervor, even as poison became your air and every day has been torture: “To be spared,” was your simple prayer.

Your legs endured as each glimmer grew grimmer, with faith that stars will again trail the way, where your tiny toes had wandered and now, my sail weeps for the sweet child I failed.

For you, the sun indeed knocked closer, beckoning you to lay— slip and drift as the sapphire sky’s sailor, robbing me of my trusted aide.

Despite the rain’s splatter, aboard, we cruise as the waves cease to sway; the frail lad who foolishly yearned for tender waters was drowned in this life’s waves.

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