Flying Dutchman

by Bradley McIlwain


From the Cape of Storms
Our sails turned towards

The London shores, and
Face the gale wind with

Battered masts and broken
Spirit; the dreaded silence

Of the ancient sea that seeps
Into the heart of everyman

Many old and timeless legends,
Say she’s there, on stormy nights,

Looking over the bow —
Of men who sailed in search of

Treasures great, doomed to ride
the Flying Dutchman

The lighthouse shines
But won’t extend nature’s far

Untamed reaches;
The moon too, refuses

To grant her presence
Between the break of waves

And rocky shoals, you can see
Her hull gleaming on a moonless night —

The fog thick and weary, a luminous
Haze between her masts 

Without sails
Her body a battle cry

In gale winds
Carrying souls of sailors

Who ride the seas forever
On the Cape.