Calm Before The Storm by Don Taco

 Calm Before The Storm

it’s the calm before the storm
the wind holding its breath
as the sun sinks into angry clouds out west
all the fisher folk have put away their nets

stow our oars and furl our sails
mend our nets and tell our tales
count the blessings that the mother ocean sends
for there’s nowhere else to go
when the ocean tells you no
tend your fire, tend your family, tend your friends

here’s a tale my grandpa told
I was probably eight years old
the island’s version of a lovers' plight
it touched me so, I couldn’t sleep that night

now the grey is in my hair
grandpa’s tale is mine to share
to hear or tell it now still makes me weep
some nights I tell it, and I still can’t sleep

now, the ocean gives what she will give
and the ocean takes what she will take
she is wide and rough and vast and cold
and strong and fierce and deep
and the mother ocean keeps what she will keep

she was young, a village child
tender, true, with dreams grown wild
but a lady of the island like the rest
till the ocean laid her hopes and dreams to rest

he, an older village lad
shared with her the dreams he had
he was just as tender, hopeful, just as true
but the ocean calls his tune, there’s work to do

ship the oars, unfurl the sails
cast the nets and cease your tales
thank the ocean when she’s in the mood to share
there’s a lot of work to do
there’s a lot of danger, too
take advantage, take your chances, but take care

show your love each way you can
knit a sweater for your man
from the hard-won wool of barren rocky soil
for it’s no less than the men do the women toil

knit a sweater, light a lamp
proof against the cold and damp
in a pattern used by your village alone
a glance will tell you where a man calls home

raise our oars and praise our sails
bless the breezes, curse the gales
sieze the day if it brings ill or it brings good
for there’s little you can do
when the ocean beckons you
and the sea provides your only livelihood

but among the things you fear
what you hope to never hear
is the news that fortune, like the tides, has turned
the news that all, save one, have safe returned

when you live your life this way
things don’t change much day to day
but some things are more important than the rest
and the ocean took the one that she loved best

now, the ocean gives what she will give
and the ocean takes what she will take
she is wide and rough and vast and cold
and strong and fierce and deep
and the mother ocean keeps what she will keep

when the sea returns a man to you
when she spits him up upon her shore
when the rocks and birds and fish have had their fill
you can only guess his name, try as you will

when you recognize the patterned wool
match it up against the missing souls
if you knitted every stitch by your own hand
while the sea, relentless, slaps against the land

the ocean sends another wave
every stitch by your own hand
the ocean sends another wave
every stitch by your own hand
the ocean sends another wave
every stitch by your own hand
the ocean sends another wave
every stitch by your own hand

help me gather my witnesses
help me gather my friends
help me gather my wits, and face
the day the story ends