Mayday

A Poem dedicated to Wreckages

Creativivian
Scribe
Mar 1, 2023

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Photo by Nick Jio on Unsplash

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.

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Creativivian
Scribe
Writer for

Content Writer, not always content. Semantic Architect. Full-time Metaphor Hunter, inspired to inspire. ⁣