What is this voice that speaks to me,

when wild wind howls and rigging strums.

The thrash and thump of waves on hull

and dark, dark nights spawn fears.

 

A voice from somewhere deep within;

a cautious caring voice of calm.

A voice that waken senses sapped

by lack of sleep or freezing cold.

A voice that calls from rain swept deck.

“Its time to reef.” “Its time to tack.”

When lying in a warm dark fug-

is what the body really craves.

 

So many times this friendly voice,

Has called for me, to go on deck;

when I would rather stay below.

Yet I will not ignore this call.

I never paused to ask the voice.

“Why, who are you who cares for me?”

I never thought to seek your name,

my guardian angle, spirit kind.

 

But when, at last, I asked your name,

the answer flashed, bright in my mind.

“My name Sarah, lonely man;

and I will always be with you.”

 
 
David Garlick, Sidney, September, 2000

 

For David Mitchell, on Ondarina.