Blue ripples
shimmering with silver
ridges, rolling away
toward the Sun that
brightens the palest
azure horizon
mesmerize me.
My exposed skin browns
with freckles, moistened
by the late summer
rays that burn
in the cerulean sky.
Those Aegean sailors
bound for Troy,
fiercely loyal or stupidly
tricked by a sailor much
cleverer than they
toiled on these same
lapis lazuli waters.
Unlike me, whose sinews
only strain when
climbing,
they strained against the
sail, begging favor from
the gods who alternately
favored or
thwarted their schemes.
My schemes are
few; my goals minute:
To walk in the footsteps of
apostles, to consider
what might have been,
to envision battles and
ghosts and bishops
on the plains and
In their gymnasium
and baths.
Are there kingdoms
here to save
or subdue?
No royalty I,
with souls dependent on
my decisions.
All I have are
peace and prayers
and dreams
for my children
who also await
my safe return.
