IN SEARCH OF WHO TO BE

IN SEARCH OF WHO TO BE

The galleon rolled, a mast-bell tolled,
High moon compelled the free.
We came as called, our journeys mauled,
In search of who to be.

With footbridge raised and anchors weighed,
A saltlick hailed the sea.
By dead of night, I stole my plight
As plight had stolen me.

Full buffet flume! This deck of doom!
Deliverance! Stand with me!
Let hope prevail before this sail
And drowning, not drown thee!

*

When riggings slip, we take this ship
To learn the rudder’s game.
We read the stars like old memoirs
And find ourselves again.

We face the world, we grit our pearl,
Glow burnished and well-framed.
Yet, standing proud, we beg our crowd,
‘Just how might I be named?’

This, ‘Who am I?’ until we die,
Our fortune and our aim:
To be someone and so belong
To love from where we came.

*

Blue lightning cracks and thunder whacks
Our prow beneath the waves.
Baptism came and left a name,
This lifelong quest to save.

A name at first to slake a thirst
For stealing thieves and spies.
A blood group code, a fixed abode,
The colour of our eyes.

The book is thin beneath the skin
Great stories live out there.
Our lives are cast in words that pass
Between the love we share.

*

Into that gale we set our sail
Faith in fate’s compass dial.
We lift our plate to the ocean gate
And take the author’s trial:

To be someone and so belong
We plunder open seas:
To make a tale our friends would hail
As our days truly seized.

So, buffet-boom! Great ship of doom
Let swell the ocean tide!
We’ll grow not old when stories told
Word-pimp the author’s ride.

*

To read the stars like old memoirs
We climb our own crow’s nest,
Then looking down, we see our crown –
Minds clear when dispossessed.

Pirates, smugglers, mutineers,
Ships’ captains – all in chains.
The lock of life no sailor’s knife
Can bleed it from our veins.

To see ourselves, we find ourselves
In stories underway.
With golden nails, they fixed our sails
Of fate before our day.

*

Parental veil, a gendered tale,
A social place to park,
A language rich, roll, yaw and pitch,
Just ships who pass through dark.

We come to hold our nails of gold
Defining though they be.
To be someone and so belong,
In chains we can be free.

So, Va! Va! Voom! Your deck of doom!
When loved it hurts to yield.
Behold your name, protect the flame,
And come back with your shield.

*

We stake our lives on galleon rides –
High moons compel the free.
We come as called, our journeys mauled,
In search of who to be.

Life runs aground, we can’t be found,
We search to no avail.
The ‘Who am I?’ until we die
Will always somehow fail.

With stories told in nails of gold,
Let’s claim our piece of sky.
Entrust our soul to flag our pole
Where Jolly Rogers fly.

*

A galleon rolled, the last bell tolled,
It set the sailors free.
No compass dial, the author’s trial
Released us from the sea.

In life outplayed, our stories made
Are all we say and do.
Then stories told in faith unfold
Between the me and you.

By light of moon, lost ships of doom
Leave harbour one last time.
As anchors weigh, new anthems play,
The silenced mast-bells chime.

Tim Coburn
September 2022