island man - jose marte abueg Waiting to conclude our contract I began
to understand that the boatman cared little
for or perhaps had no notion of endings.
On reaching shore the first thing he did
was not to collect the fare, which I had ready
in my hand, but to go directly where the other
boatmen were gathered and tell them how
like the broken line he began to draw in the sand
we had lost our way in the sudden downpour.

Two connected pieces of a thin line drawn
with a stick, so basic it could seem nothing else
had ever been sketched on sand. As he moved
his sturdy arm I noticed he wore no watch. Likely
cared little, too, for time (except to catch a fare;
that morning he was outside waiting at least an hour
and forty-five minutes before our appointed time).
Perhaps had no notion, either, of scene and landscape.

In the boat he had shown no sign and I had
no inkling that the severe hour of downpour
had veered us away from our path, to which he
quietly brought us back. The path ultimately
took me where I found empty sand and trees
darker than the sea. But the boatman, he found
a story to tell. As more people gathered around him
he continued to tell it, his boat far from view. After
he sketched our broken path and the path of wind
he stood up, filled all the space, his voice strong.

[ webpage ]  ¶ 6/28/2004 11:26:00 PM