" What the ice takes, the ice keeps "
"Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages, bitter cold. Long months of complete darkness.Constant danger. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in case of success. " January 1914 (Sir Ernest Shackleton, leader of the expedition)
I.
He must have had a pull
stronger than magnetic north
to draw so many men
to his desire.
Did his eyes blaze
with passion
as he caressed
the curves of his ship?
His wife, child,
not enough
to anchor him.
The pole stolen,
he claimed the pack ice
as consolation prize.
II.
He drifts
with deadly currents,
a man of action
forced to watch
land and sun recede.
Failure
bitter as brackish water
that pools at his crew's feet.
III.
Spring
brings no respite.
She takes the ship
as sacrifice
and spites
explorer's dreams.
IV.
They salvage
Hurley's negatives.
He must choose
only a few, cries
as he smashes glass plates.
A crack
reverberates across the ice.
The sled dogs fall silent.
V.
Tossed and spun
by a capricious sea,
the men are taunted
by the misery of salt and wind.
They fear even death
will not rescue them.
VI.
They savage
seals and penguins
with greater skill
than killer whales. They reek
of fish and blubber.
Hair, skin, clothes
stiff with spray and grime.
They imagine
tea and whiskey,
lavender scented
linens, sleep like sardines
in the shelter of two
upturned lifeboats.
VII.
One hope:
one open boat
makes landfall
across 800 nautical miles
of madness.
Shackleton lies,
drives two companions overland.
The whaling station always
just out of reach.
On the glacier
he turns five minutes' sleep
into thirty.
There is nothing
left to lose.
The whalers
turn away and weep
when three wraiths
shape themselves
out of fog.
VIII.
In time,
the sea calls
many of her sailors back.
As if earth alone
could not sustain them.
As if Antarctica herself
had transfused
ice water for blood.
© 2002 Lisa Janice Cohen
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