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The Mermaid ©

Josephine Duthie
Aberdeen, Scotland
2001

She rose, a creature without soul
A phantom of the storm,
Laced in salt-strewn seaweed
Flash-lit around her form.

She road the waves, searching,
Her voice wild with pain,
Wind roared from the ocean's heart
And dragged her down again.

Through clefts of airborne valleys
Her face a-scream with glee,
She burst on to the surface
And skimmed across the sea.

Had she spied a ghost ship?
Torn sails which flapped distress,
Could she claim her sailor?
Was she his lost mistress?

White horses drew her nearer
Hair lashing at the spray,
In a voice that he would know
She called him constantly.

He felt her gaze upon his back
Yielded to her call,
Let her whispers close his mind
And slid beneath the squall.

Held within her cold embrace
He watched the unshut eyes,
Heard the whale songs echoing
His upper world demise.



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