A Fishermen's Memorial

Tbe photograph looks more like a vision
of a steeple top in the clouds
a ghosted scene on rolling surf,
bringing home unseen fishermen in shrouds
who were lost in storms on watery turf
while earning a living away from crowds.

A black granite stone keeps vigil on shore,
inscribed with eleven names of the lost
from a village known for hardy folk
the courage to venture in boats sea-tossed
going a way they must to invoke
the catch for which they wrest a fatal cost.

Families of fisher-folk lost in oceans
remember with gratitude that their kin
died honoring a tradition as old
as life itself, when humans shed fins,
emerged from their primal aquatic hold,
yet knew one day they'd have to return.

And, still today they go out in their boats
from dawn through the day, fog, and wind,
stand at the helm and look to horizon.
When their bodies drift back to land
winds sing a Kyrie eleison
for mercy to others gone out again.

George Chappell

Rockland, Maine