Event Horizon
I board the boat before dawn.
There is something oppressive about a sky
as dark grey as the sea.
We did not heed the weather warning.
On the observation deck
sea and sky blur in a deluge,
the only discernable feature in this landscape
is a fuzzy white line of the horizon.
The windows are streaked with rivulets,
all that I see in the great expanse ahead
is a wash of grey/green and white,
but at least it is calm now, and day light.
There is nothing to keep the great beyond from engulfing me,
the view is too big.
Swallowed by empty space,
there are no edges to my line of vision.
Cold and airy
every thing turns white and wintery,
like in Rauschenberg’s paintings
I fall into the void.
Immense awareness of the lateral,
the horizon curls out of sight on either side of me.
I have a heightened sense of wide
and the deep scares me.
Is the horizon a wall where above
and below converge on the vertical?
Or perhaps, this is an edge? A ledge?
Is there water at the world’s end?
Nicolas Papaconstantinou
Really evocative poem, Bridgeen, with some great imagery and some interesting questions asked.
The fifth verse breaks a little for me – The “like” breaks the quite refined tone for some reason, and I think “as” might flow better. But the only reason I notice it at all is because the rest flows together so well!
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