The Deep by S. A. Khan

I wrote this poem based on the memory of an old nightmare. I dreamt I was walking through the streets of the waterfront in my hometown, looking for someone, while something dark slowly followed me. I've never been sure what or who it was. I'm drawn to the idea of old, forgotten, deities and the superstitions and traditions they once inspired. I grew up in a coastal city, and I think that also influenced this poem.

The Deep by S. Khan

Walking, winding, down the streets of the western harbourfront, Crones, witches, winking through windows.

Rats whisper, rush at my feet The wind rustles the rubbish behind me.

Razor-armed boys, wait to rob me around corners, They take one look at my black eyes, turn a heel, rush home to their mothers.

See the visage staring at me, In the still water of puddles.

Superstitious housewives leave me offerings, Their husbands, the sailors, the fishermen, for them I shall provide.

Hooded men guard the threshold of churches, They grip their staves tight, upon my approach.

They do not see me. They fear me, these holy men.

I’ve walked and wound to the sea’s edge, Stepping into the cold water.

I am Dalliol of The Deep, and the tide slumbers at my feet.