Colquhoun Leaves His Island

Elizabeth, 
you who are my life, 
what mixture of emotions overcame me 
as I left our island home. 
Fear for the future. 
I have no idea what evil lies ahead. 
Deep and overwhelming loss. 
I am leaving you, for how long I don’t know. 
Strong reproach too. 
I curse my folly. 
You were wiser than me but I, 
foolish and arrogant and opinionated,
ignored your warnings and advice. 
I have been so caught up in my own life, 
so preoccupied with my own joys, 
that I permitted no plans for Miriam, 
no preparations for her future joy. 
I assumed my joy would be hers. 
What a selfish fool I was. 

With wretchedness I watched 
your figure diminish and then 
the headland hid you from my view. 
I watched our island slip under the horizon. 
I know that all the years before I met you 
was chrysalis time, where, cocooned, 
I slept or endured, imprisoned by cords  
of youth and other suffocating tyranny. 
Then you came. You set me free. 
You gave me wings to dry in the dappled dawning. 

Soon the sea will consume the sun. 
Already the Evening Star lies low above the swells.
I lash fast the rudder, carry just a little sail. 
I have set my compass for Nemey. 
My boat rises and falls on the darkening swells. 
I want to be lifted and carried, 
not by the sea but by the tide of your presence. 
Can it sustain me, give me hope, 
guide me to Miriam, help me help her?

Then can it bring me back to you?
Will I ever see you again? 
Will I find Miriam? 
Will she want me to find her? 
I write in hope that if I fail to return, 
this journal will somehow find its way to you
and you will read of my journey 
and of my love for you and understand 
that your love carried me 
through every wave and every island 
and every moment of every woe-filled day. 

Colquhoun Reaches Nemey

Clearly visible beneath the still water 
were the ruined hulls of cargo ships. 
Port cranes, like dinosaurs caught in conflagration,
lay twisted and burnt, dead skulls 
dipping into the blue water. 
An ancient town, once colorful buildings 
and narrow winding streets, was rubble. 
No children played, nor women bargained, 
nor stall holders displayed colorful wares.
The city was mute. 

Then with a roar of motor a new utility truck 
bounced across a broken road 
and armed, hostile men, 
chests laden with bullet belts, 
automatic weapons cradled in their arms, 
leapt out and flung me to the ground. 
I felt a boot on my head and a rifle in my back.  

Who are you? What do you want? 
What are you doing here?

Please. I am unarmed. 
I search for my daughter. 
I go to every island of the archipelago. 

The tension disappeared. 
The boot lifted off my head. 
The rifle no longer pressed my back. 
I heard hard and contemptuous laughter.

He searches for a woman. 
There are no women here. 
You must go to the camp of the women. 
There you will find many women.

They pointed westwards and I walked. 
I passed weed-filled, ruined farming terraces. 
I passed the rubble of villages. 
I passed the tangled twist of armored vehicles. 
I walked towards plumes of black smoke. 
I walked towards the setting sun. 
That way lay the camp of the women. 
My heart filled with fear at the thought 
that Miriam might be there.