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Lighthouse, by Sharmagne Leland-St.John
If the lighthouse could sing
by Michael Escoubas
she would sing beyond the demons of the sea.
She would wave her arms as in olden days
as ships sailed by, warning them away
by winking her golden eye. Sailors imagined
her as a girl with haloed body shining
onshore signaling beleaguered mainsails
away from rocky ledges. She would sing her
song as her lamplight beamed on the churning
green sea. The whitened foam is spidery
lace spread out by demons stirring
the already angry waves. There,
the lighthouse stands in orange yellow
glow, like a Diva, on centerstage,
daring the sea and blackened sky to test her
will, to doubt her navigational skills.
What would the lighthouse say, even to me,
in the midst of my churning green sea?
Will I give ear if she sings . . . Listen, listen to me.
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