Captain Sisay’s Lament

Gerrard,
tonight the Weatherlight floats
on a pleasant front.
Night falls.
From beyond the clouds
the stars hang close by.
Sailors prowl the deck,
while more hands sleep below
lost in their bunks.
You in your cabin,
I in mine;
separated by these sheets,
a few planks of wood
and air.  Separated by the air
and the Legacy which surrounds us
and keeps us aloft, drifting,
drifting.

In kind dreams
I find myself walking the deck,
rough wood beneath bare feet,
the Legacy gathered in my arms.
I linger at the railing’s edge,
then open my arms,
plunging these artifacts
to the depths of the Kukemesa Sea.
Karn is there, too, and I tell him I’m sorry.
But he smiles and nods and tips.
The sea reaches out for him, and all that’s left
are bubbles.

You and I
stare at the bubbles.
“We are free,” you say,
“to do what and why we want.
I’m no longer your first mate, nor you my captain.
We can sail the seas as equals.”
That’s when I wake.

I see
how you and Hanna look at each other.
How you steal glances.
I know something you don’t know:
The two of you aren’t meant to be.
If you were, why would it take so long
to embrace?
Do you think all hardships
can be solved through a series of kisses?
The times when lovers should care and support each other,
those are the times you squabble.
Love is more than awkward,
volatile, temporary urges.
Love is
give
and
take.

We, Gerrard, belong.
We fit like precision smooth worm gears,
our destinies interlaced through lineage,
Me, master of my heritage,
and commander of this ship,
and you,
heir to the Legacy I stow for you
and keep safe.
These baubles I’ve collected,
for us,
These trinkets I’ve gathered
for you to use.
Not that navigator, Hanna.
What does she know?
She knows the histories of dead artifacts.
She studied them.  She thinks she knows how to use them.
She doesn’t.  To her, the Legacy can be understood.
It can’t.  The Legacy must be teased.
Ancient magics must be stoked,
with patience and passion,
fingers interlocking grips of cool metal
and soft leather; polished woods and
the infinite space of crystals.
What good is knowing how to use these things
if you don’t know why.

You don’t know how to use the Legacy, either,
Gerrard, but you’re learning.
Our Legacy isn’t something you can read in a book.
It’s alive, understood by the gaps
of time between each tense pull on the halyard,
or the moments spent leaning on the stern
gazing on the receding horizon
thinking of nothing, thinking of everything.
Each day,
your body learns and flexes.
The Legacy isn’t
a mystery to be solved, but an engine
to be worked between us,
and some day you’ll reach in,
flit your hands beyond the gears
and find the cord; you’ll wind our destinies together
and pull.