Those Without

I saw a ship tossing, midst swells and waves
thought I, ’tis not how ships alright behaves.
No light in her wheelhouse, flag shred to tatters
mysterious cargo, boding sordid matters.

What should I do, all alone at my post
one lonely sentry for this cherished coast?
Wailin’ winds bore her down, fast – hard upon me
wrenched hull, torn rust, embraced wicked sea.

Their frantic splashing, poor souls, by moonlight
told me then, God save us, to do what was right.
I drove both oars deep against wind and rain
tossing, near swamping, unmentionable pain.

I raced out to meet them, ‘fore lady fate
could pull them below, through her ominous gate.
Each one I reached, I called “Passport – Papers please.”
Alas, by my duty… those without… went down… to the seas.

About the author: Conrad

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