A Wounded Bird

An ode to a broken boat, the wild Scottish seas, and the labour of restoring a ship and a soul.

This week I have been finishing work on my memoir and putting a proposal together to start querying. I’ve been thinking a lot about Kismet, our journey, and the epic scale of it all. Now that some time has passed, I am realising how incredible a voyage it really was, circumnavigating Scotland, rounding the top of the remote, wild northern coast.

And it’s inspired me to write a poem, a little ode to Kismet who carried us through it all.

When we were out sailing I kept thinking back to the epic imagery of Moby-Dick and Paradise Lost, especially as we navigated autumn storms around Cape Wrath, and the massive tides of the Pentland Firth. The themes of chaos and treacherous, vicious storms from those stories seemed appropriate as we sailed through some very rough, unforgiving seas.

I love these lines from Paradise Lost so much I included the quote in my book. It’s describing the voyage from Hell to earth across Chaos, with vivid seascape imagery.

Into this wild Abyss

—The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave,
Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed
Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,
Unless the almighty Maker them ordain
His dark materials to create more worlds—
Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend
Stood on the brink of Hell and looked awhile,
Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith
He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed
With noises loud and ruinous—to compare
Great things with small—than when Bellona storms
With all her battering engines, bent to rase
Some capital city; or less than if this frame
Of heaven were falling, and these elements
In mutiny had from her axle torn
The steadfast earth. At last his sail-broad vans
He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke
Up-lifted spurns the ground;

If only we could all write like Milton… Alas.

But inspired by this, I’ve put together a poem for Kismet about our whole voyage. It’s written in blank verse in four stanzas. It’s inspired by the feel and imagery of the great epic blank verse poems like Ulysses, Paradise Lost, and The Odyssey.

Kismet sailing from Skye, with the Cuillins behind. Photo by Angie and Alex of Twoflower.

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A Wounded Bird

A broken boat with folded sails, alone
As winter frosts descend, abandoned here,
A gothic city’s yard of former glory.
Asleep on iron keels you yearned for seas
Remote in weary age, yet wanting more.
You dreamt to bound atop the waves again,
Beyond the Firth of Forth, and farther more.
You dreamt of distant shores and deep sea lochs, 
Among the rugged isles that guard the west.
But here ‘til now, your heart seized up, corroded.
Decayed, your courage lacking spark and verve.
A hull that’s dulled by years and miles gone by,
A wounded bird ashore, so far from life,
Away from lochs and isles and dolphin kin,
And far removed from dying dreams of yore. 

And then by kindred soul discovered here,
A sailor seeking Kismet and escape.
I wanted too what’s in your dreams, the wild
And sun-soaked west; to nestle in amongst
The ancient Cuillins looming over Skye,
And sail across the sea below the grace 
Of gulls and gannets gliding high above.
Our stories now aligned and intertwined,
As work began to build your heart and brain,
To give you courage and restore my soul,
Through winters chill we laboured long and hard.
And then came spring, with puffins swift return,
And warming sun as sails were raised again.

Then brave Kismet, northward bound we sailed! 
Across great seas, through Scotland’s heart out west.
You carried us through lochs as deep as time,
To feel Atlantic spray upon the wind, 
Then further still our journey went, past Mull 
And Skye with dolphins as our welcome guides.
Across the Scottish sea, new worlds emerged,
Far west as you can go. As autumn winds
Approached, again across a sea we sailed.
In Assynt ancient peaks stood watch alone,
Behind the pebbled shores in wispy clouds 
Enshrouded, there they pondered aeons past.

Then stormy Cape of Wrath and fear approached.
You brought us bravely forth again through gales,
And waves and roaring tides – bewinged souls,
Beneath the ancient skies by end of land.
Afloat through churning maelstroms, rushing past,
Through rearing waves that broke across our bow,
Abound for home, due south, and winter’s rest.
A grand adventure dreamt and sailed as one,
Reborn with life anew you soared and flew,
Before the winds across the sea with me –
Two birds no longer wounded, but made whole.

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I love the rhythm and epic scale of blank verse, and have really enjoyed trying to capture the vivid imagery of seascapes and sailing, enhanced through its undulating pace. I hope it comes across.

If you enjoyed this poem, please consider hitting the like button or sharing it with anyone equally captivated by epic shores. Your support helps a lot as I work toward bringing this book into the world.