Mayday
A Poem dedicated to Wreckages
How did we end up here,
where a request for help
has the blossoming name
of a spring day?
I was born to answer
to the messages
of those who are sinking
I was born to venture out
on general average
you don’t even declare
I know only
emergency procedures
venez m’aider
and I can’t even help, because
in case of Small fire on board — now extinguished
I bring it back to life
I can’t tackle the blaze (I am the blaze)
in case of Imminent collision alert
I’m the impact
the sudden, forceful coming together
in your bedsheets
in case of Unsure of position
I was born lost
a broken compass
my needles are blunt weapon
only good to embrace
— they never point towards reason
or North.