The waves are calm, and the sky is clear on a beautiful night above the deep-sea waters. I can see the stars as clearly as I can see the land that I am sailing away from, they are far more beautiful than the land of greed.

This is my escape boat, invisible only in the cloak of night and so I am forced to leave at such a dangerous hour. But fortune at current is on my side, for the water is calm; maybe it has sensed my turmoil within and has decided to take pity. Pity the soul who has been lashed as harshly as the waves treat land. At least they have the grace to cool the burns, something that I could not even dream of as the slave of a military man.

A man who was as cruel as the wars he served, he forced me to cook for them, polish their weapons and build fortification all while a whip followed at my tail, threatening to beat down at the first glimmer of a fault.

I worked every waking hour until the master finally took break from service, that was when I finally saw my escape. The master’s daughter liked to walk by the sea, and I was charged to guard her. Of course, the harbour men never spoke to me, but I stilled watched them and from the snippets; I heard that they never left at night and that one of them was even foolish enough to leave their keys on the boat. The master lived in a small town that was void of crime and so the people here are complacent.

Finally here I was, after months of secret planning, on a boat in the fog of night, still a clearly foolish plan despite the food I had stolen. But one I referred over the burn of my master’s grip. I sailed on and on, hopefully going west, where new land lies. My future now depends on the mercy of the sea I thought as my gaze drifted along what the stars and moon allowed me to see, I was still far too close to land to open the lights.

I checked the food and began counting my rations while the boat sailed on for hours and hours, from night to day, I sailed in relative calm, a calm that I am forever grateful for, even if I was weary of it. It was unusual for the sea to be so calm when I have only ever known it to be a cold violent scream who kill and destroying as it pleases and without any regard for the human souls that sail upon it.

It was strange, to be prepared for wrath but not receive any, I breathed in the salty air and watched the seagulls soar as the sea guided me through her open world and straight to the first humans, I had seen days, pirates. I watched their black flag approaching me and a doom settled over me, of course it had to be pirates and not the sea, I should have known that even she thought me unworthy of dying in her waters.

I am nothing but a slave after all, I thought as the pirates anchored and peered down to my small boat. “Ahoy lass, who are you, to be sailing on these fine waters?”

“…I-I am no one important…please just let me pass”

The pirate in the red coat smirked and said, “let you pass” He laughed “No lass, I'll in need of new crew members and so I'll be capturing ya for me ship”

I looked at him confused, am I to become his slave then? to escape one master for another…I kept quiet, so he spoke again “I'm kidding, I’m not capturing ya, I am asking ya to join me crew”

“What?” I asked shocked to be invited rather than forced. I stared for a while and then said yes, better to comply than for them to take offence at my refusal. But the captain turned out to be a jolly sort and smiled as he said “Welcome to the crew lass”

And so I never did find the land of the west, instead I found a pirate land on ship and a new life on the open sea. The pirates were as savage as men in battle, but around each other they were kind and merry… I guess to be human is to be flawed.

in the dead of night

the ocean's daughter

springs to life

across the water

with hair of blue

and scales of green

she remains hidden

barely seen

she lives a life

beneath the foam

and skims the space of

and sand and stone

she rides a gilded chariot

weaves through the passing ships

songs of sadness and triumph

escaping from her lips

on and on into the sunrise

filled with secrets that she keeps

all in hope that one day

she'll return to the deep.

The anteater on the berg cast his gaze,

looking at the dissipating mist clear,

hunting for opportunities,

a moment of preparedness.

it’s claws , quietly cutting,

into the hardened ice,

oh, the bushy tail, sogged,

but not a hinderence,

let the polar bears play all they want,

they will not escape for long,

it’s lengthy tongue ,

the whales, alas, are growing scarce,

so are the walruses and seals,

since it’s mistaken introducrion,

into the arctic scene.

it knows no restraint,

and treats them all like ,

the formic prey it reveled at in past.

as the floe dot the watery horizon ,

the anteater knows, with joy,

the satisfaction of the overlord.

thralls and vassals,

all are his.