LatinosUSA

We are clear of the Malacca Strait                                       

two days out from Singapore and                

heading nor west to show the flag                                        

at India’s port Visakha                                                         

and morning is about to break.                     

My sauna baking bunk killed sleep

now I’m cooling my skin on deck                                          

standing in the V of the ship                                    

forrard of the turreted guns

awaiting the coming of day.

Suddenly streaks of silver bronze

and blue lance upward to reveal

the sea’s edge burgeoning red

against the mantle night-dark sky

advancing to dispel and light

the sullen brooding dark grey sea.  

Flattened cumulus clouds billow

coloured orange as sky unfolds

a panoply that dims the stars

and smalls six hundred feet of ship.

The sun itself begins ascent

as if to boil the sea in blood

a discus from almighty God

shimmering heat upon our decks

turning darkened grey powder blue.

Others assemble silently

tongue-tied witnesses overawed

stilled in attitudes of wonder

at this display of cosmic power.

Turning I look up at the bridge.

The gaunt figure of our captain

in spotless whites, gazes outward

at this awesome sunrise display.

In him I see the child-like glee

That celebrates our certainty.

Then age and youth, rank and file

cease to be, our ship of guns

a weapon ready unrequired

sits silent in rainbow sea as

Helios rising gives cause to be.

© Tony Ashenden 2026