The sirens wailed loudly as Douglas struggled to find sure footing among the muck and mire of the sinking vessel. A massive cloud of smoke was impeding his vision and a dull buzzing echoed across every synapsis of his brain, drowning out the clamoring chaos all around him. Struggling through the madness Douglas knew that if nothing else, he must reach the main control box and shut down the main energy valve. A monotonous task considering the current status of the ship and the din of the battle raging all around him. Gripping the railing to his right, the courage in his heart and the last ounces of energy in his body, he slowly and painstaking inched his way across the bits and pieces of destroyed objects. The remnants of what mere minutes ago was "ship shape" and orderly. The screams and shouts seemed to grow louder and more terrifying while Douglas gritted his teeth and dug even deeper, wading on and on, now hips deep in the destruction. One youngster gripped Douglas about the waist babbling incoherently while yet another clenched him with a death grip by the leg. "I must make it" he shouted aloud, dragging the two with him, praying with every fiber of his body that he could just go another two feet to the box! Reaching the remote control Douglas fumbled and then quickly hit the off button to the television.

"Phew"!

"Time for a sleepy baby nap" he said to the twin boys at his feet.

"A nap for you, and clean up time for me".. he sighed as the toddlers giggled grabbing their blankets and scampering off down the hallway to the bedroom.

Amidst the tempestuous waves, where men dare to roam,

A tale unfolds, of a relentless sea's cruel comb.

Nicholas Monsarrat, a wordsmith's hand did wield,

Crafting a narrative, a saga unconcealed.

"The Cruel Sea," its name, a harbinger of strife,

A testament to the perils of seafaring life.

In the depths of World War, where conflict roared,

The Battle of the Atlantic, its relentless chord.

Within those pages, characters took their stand,

Facing the fury of an unforgiving land.

Commander Ericson, a steadfast soul at helm,

Guiding his vessel through the naval realm.

A crew, diverse and determined, by his side,

United by a purpose, the ocean's raging tide.

Together they sailed, amidst enemy's lurking guise,

Their hearts filled with courage, their spirits set to rise.

Like Ulysses of old, they battled against the odds,

Withstanding nature's wrath and the war's deadly nods.

Against the Norsemen's might, they held their ground,

Defying the fates, where triumph could be found.

Melville's spirit breathed through the windswept air,

Echoes of Ahab's chase, whispers of despair.

For the cruel sea, with its relentless might,

Could turn heroes to mere mortals, in the darkest night.

The Arctic Convoys, a treacherous path they tread,

A trepidation akin to Gulliver's tales widespread.

Amongst towering icebergs and frigid northern gales,

They sailed, braving the unknown, where peril never pales.

In the echoes of history, the Bounty's ghostly call,

A tale of mutiny, where loyalty could stall.

Yet, in "The Cruel Sea," a different tale was told,

Of camaraderie unyielding, a brotherhood to behold.

Through prose or poetry, memoir or rhyme,

"The Cruel Sea" stands as a timeless paradigm.

A testament to human endurance and the strength to strive,

Where courage met the tempest, in the fight to survive.

So let us remember those who sailed the cruel sea,

Their valor and sacrifice, their indomitable decree.

For in their legacy, we find a beacon of hope,

That even amidst the storm, humanity can cope.

The shuddering booms

of bombs yet again fall

two sisters’ childhood is shattered

as rioters and the government squall.

In what seemed like a moment

they thought would end soon

another friend’s life is taken…

visas in Europe seem opportune.

Teen sisters Yusra and Sarah

know their future’s shaky at best

so they beg their parents

to fly far from the nest.

These young Syrian swimmers

pack their bags light

fare to Turkey in hand as they tearfully

embark on their flight.

Wandering the streets of Istanbul

they search for routes to the West

With horror they realize

rubber rafts across

the sea are “the best.”

They push out in dark waters

Stuffed on a dinghy fit only for eight

18 desperate travelers

surrender their fate.

Soon the flimsy engine sputters

Prayers and tears flow

as they brave the cruel sea

and a bitter wind blows.

Yusra and Sarah

decide to lighten the weight

they jump boldly in the Aegean

Swimming through the icy strait.

Their strokes push through

the cold, pain and fear

Praying persistently that soon

the shore will draw near.

After hours of swimming

They miraculously reach the sand

Weary and amazed

They’re alive in a new land.

Exhausted by thousands of refugees

The nearby neighbors have little pity

So the group of 18 find shelter

and food from foreign aid in the city.

Determined to reach Germany

Yusra and Sarah walk countless miles

Cross borders, sleep outdoors

and endure this dangerous trial.

After weeks they miraculously make it

to a safe haven in Berlin

Where they must start over and

Yusra wishes she can swim again.

The girls find a nearby pool

and Yusra pleas for a spot on the team

The coach sees her potential

says yes and re-awakens her dreams.

Life as refugees is hard

But the sisters do what they can

and try to secure safe passage

for their parents to travel by land.

Through grit, courage, and talent

Yusra joins the first Refugee Olympic Team in Brazil

She swims with power

Buoyed by hope and a strong will.

Meanwhile, Sarah audaciously

returns to the Aegean sea

joins efforts to bring many more

refugees across to safety.

These two sisters’ story

is but one of millions who’ve fled

conflict, disaster, persecution

and seek refuge, holding hope by a thread.

May we who live in comfort and ease

show compassion and kindness

as we see and meet

the refugee newcomers among us.

To learn more:

https://time.com/6236203/the-swimmers-true-story-netflix/ https://www.rescue.org/topic/refugees-america

Photo by Tim Marshall