REQUIEM FOR LIGHTHOUSE

BY MICHAEL JAMES

Lighthouse I am and I do stand alone; 

I hold up the lamp,

That guides mariners home. 

Rain clouds press down on me; 

Storm waves crash over me; 

Lightning bolts hiss down my long copper rods. 

As crazy as Lear I am, 

Sans hat and sans coat. 

Abandoned, bareheaded, 

Yet one solemn note: 

ln the storm, my horn!

One form I have taken 

On coasts far and wide, 

Since Pharos Alexandria, 

Brought down by the tide. 

Still I hold high man's hope  

ln the fierce ocean storm, 

Where seamen fight hard 

To hold on to their own,  

To steer little ships for Haven and home. 

Man versus the elements, 

Erect, past his prime,

Bearing his light, 

Though just for a time.

That light, yes that one being doused by the rising seas, the eternal feminine of earth's waters aroused at last to subjugate and quell, to drown the errant male who, from his stand on land, seeks to challenge Jahweh with his persistent "Why?'  Enraged seas, enlist against men for daring to be counted before the usurper-God, betray their mates to lie with Him.

Man's lamp is doused, his towers laid low, 

On coastal cliffs now no more lights do show.

2013

Michael James-Mined in England. There thrown on the wheel for impress of first hands.

Turned and shaped in Berkeley.

Fired and painted by students of Tamalpais district which he left in 1993. 

Writes essays, stories, and poetry.