Brine Song

Priest kissed those cold clay lips
Form mutilated on battle between ships
A gift given back from grey seas
Fish and brine ate up everything below the knee

Once a man of honor, strong and bold
A warrior forged in fire and mold
He sailed beneath both storm and star
To find his fate in realms afar

A tale of powder’s burn and sabres’ flash
Of cannon’s roar and timbers’ crash
Where mortal form on reefs was dashed
And hope, like sails, to tatters lashed

The waves bore witness, fierce and grim
As bloodied waters swallowed him
His cries were lost to churning tide
His spirit cast, his courage tried

And when the silent dawn did break
The sea returned him, frail and fake
No longer man but hollow shell
A ghostly spoil from ocean’s swell

The priest did weep, his hands held tight
To cold clay lips, devoid of light
To eyes that once with life did gleam
Now stilled beneath a salt-bound dream

O mournful prize from Neptune’s keep
Brought forth from depths where shadows sleep
His legend lies in whispered breath
A sailor’s tale, undone by death

No glory claimed, no song remains
Just shattered bones and briny stains
A gift returned, both fair and foul
A silent corpse for seabirds’ howl