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.