I remember your eyes

I remember your eyes the day
we won the midwinter regatta.
The race started nicely, and
As we tacked long
against whistling wind,
we worked toward the first buoy,
making good time.


As we neared it, I moved forward
with Jim - approaching the bow.
Working together we lowered the jib
as we rounded the turn and into the run.
Clamping and raising the blue and white cloud,
The fine silken spinnaker,
watching it fill as
the wind blew from behind us.


All of us smiling, we pulled into the lead
Held it steadily all through the run.
Back at the bow, approaching the turn,
Jim and I carefully timed our motions
And you at the tiller, skillfully manning,
Swung the mains’l at just the right moment
And Jim and I lowered
the billowing spinnaker.
Safely dropping it
into its bucket, Jim deftly
Made the first pull on the ginny.



We watched it rise to the top of the mast
Flowing gracefully upward


And that’s when it happened.


Suddenly shifting, the ginny fell backwards,
toppling toward us as we stared at it blankly
dimly aware of the limp halyard laying
in Jim’s surprised hand.


The halyard had snapped
near the top of the mast.
The huge sail lay useless with
No way to raise it.


You looked behind and
you saw the boats coming -
The great lead now waning.
It seemed we were lost.


“That’s it,” you said flatly.
“It’s time to turn back,”
And you shoved at the tiller
As I stared at the genoa
And its short end of frayed rope.


Jim took the limp halyard,
But as he pulled at it
I looked at the cleat
and its thin little halyard
that had raised up the spinnaker
spun in the breeze.


I found myself shouting,
“No, wait! It’s not over!
The spinnaker halyard –
Hook it to the ginny!


You shook your head gruffly;
“It’s too thin,” you said.
“No way it will hold
That big sail in this wind.”


“What is there to lose?”
Jim wondered aloud
As he took the thin rope
with it’s too small clamp,
and hand fed the line through
the top of that massive
heap of Dacron that
Lay at our feet.


“Lose my Ginny and
your tail’s in a crack!”
I heard you shout
as we came about.


We entered the reach
And the Genoa filled
And we felt the boat shift
And respond to the wind.
Our own breath, we held
As we watched the slim
Line - the little halyard.
Normally used
For holding a cloud of
Fine silk in its power.


It shivered and shimmied
As we watched and hoped,
And we looked up ahead of us,
As the distance faded and we
Pulled ever closer to
the ship in the lead


The time grew shorter,
The finish line closer
As we neared the lead boat,
pulled along side it.
Soon we were even,
And your skill defined
All of it, all of the day,

For we were to windward.
We caught the gust that pulled us
Ahead as we crossed the line first,
and saw the flag waving..

We had done it! We
had made it.
That slender rope held,
And your skill saved the day.


It wasn’t until we were motoring home
That I looked in your eyes,
And saw their cold steel
Staring right through mine.

And I saw it was over.
I knew that before long
the boat would be sold.

The regatta was won.
The struggle, ended, but
You could not claim the victory
Solely alone.

And so we were done.

Wow! That was great.

What DK said.

The ending of it took much longer than the poem suggests. We had three children in between. I wrote the poem after our separation. Something about that day seemed like a symbol for a big part of our problem.

But we had some good years, and made three wonderful people.

Ann

Alice - what happened to your post???

Ann

Beautiful poem, Ann, haunting also. You were the ideal couple.

A poem of the sea...and the seamanship is correct.
A great poem well done.

Domenic

Well done, Ann. Revealing.

Dear Ann,
What a beautiful heart you have. What a kindness is in it.

You see with a clean eye.

Love,
Betty

I've sailed, and know the terms were right - and had I taken a moment away from a victory my wife had sought - the reaction would have been the same

Quote :

And so we were done.

True to life and wonderfully done alj!

James

I recognize a lot in that poignant story. I see this same thing about to happen to a couple who are close to us. I stood by as something similar happened to us years ago. Fortunately, we were able to fix it. Not many can do that. Or even should.

We rarely see this timeless story told as clearly and succinctly as Ann has told it. With such fine verse.

(But it made me wonder who Jim was.)

Jim was a family friend. The boat was a bit too much for the two of us to handle alone during a race, so he was always our crew.

Thanks for the comments.
Ann