Replica
Off
Funchal, a caravel −
replica
sprigs of mast, of hanky sail, a silhouette
of
raking lines, due east as it tacks −
Magellan
took such toys around Good Hope.
Along
the marina, a cruise ship’s bulk
provides
deep berth for tourists, who
point
to where the little craft
skims
the tide, redefining
the
lightness of warming seas.
Its
keel’s a shallow draft, and clears
the
stony beach a breaker’s depth from festival.
Flowers,
gaudy tropicals cascading down
regimented,
municipal iron:
each
slow fuse of colour anticipates Assumption.
From
hill villages, pilgrims
arrive
for absolution, Nossa Senhora,
that
she might prise from their throats
the
grit of Christ.
Some,
finishing the journey on their knees,
up,
up the last steps to the church,
brush
aside the blooms
children
have strewn before them.
What
was discovered, where seas gave way
to
stranger lands, repeats itself
here,
in rigging caught in chalk-streak rays,
and,
on the righted sails of kings,
more
plainly seen, the cross of blood,
hoisted
to a sky they claimed.
No comments:
Post a Comment