The Priest

In those last moments I saw
the drowning begin,
and while the calm of the sea
gently rocked and swayed,
recognised the predicament I was in.

As time stood still I watched
the thrashing for air,
as gulls called the landscape,
filling the sky with abstraction
adding to the conflict that now lay there.

In detachment I paused
and thought,
considered how important life to be
as landscape turned into reality
and I saw what we had caught.

But calmly I stood in ceremony
as the priest, by rote,
delivered with precision
the last rights with one swift thud
right there on the boat.

Author: George McDermid

I scratch out poems, and the odd little tale. Mostly for my own amusement.

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