Poetry

David Mason: The Last Voyage

The Last Voyage   They came at us with rocks and spears, the oldest of our soldiers falling with his head split open, blood as red as his coat, while muskets rattled from the long boat. The captain turned his back on the attackers, shouting, perhaps, to stop the shooting. So they stabbed him from behind and he went face down in the water, and we, the lucky ones, unshipped oars and got away.   I’ve thought about that day for sixty years as every ghost I’ve lit a candle to walks on my heart. And now the dark is…

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