Waning Gibbous

A media poem

Rhythmically crashing,
     waves impede your escape.
Covering the deck,
     the ocean reaches for you.

Onlookers offer no help.
In unison they ask, 
    "why does she sail away?"

Finally out at sea,
     the waves whisper.
Without land, 
      radiant stars never seen
      guide your bioluminescent vessel.

With each nautical mile,
     quiet swells.
Silently,
     waves lap the hull.
Waning gibbous,
     she slowly leaves you.

The lawless ocean awaits.
Prepared for this voyage —
but you were not ready,
     for the silence.

Doubts surface from dark waters.
Uncertainity grows 
     in your nautical fix,
clouds cover Polaris,
the storm glass rises,
in the obscured light —
     your only crew goes below.

You are alone.

In the binnacle, 
     the compass spins.
The tack begins,
     sails luft, 
     boom swings,
     dolphins jump in your wake.

Threatening waves no more,
they blissfully carry you home.
Bells chime —
Sailing Vessel Propaganda, returning.

She finds a new island, 
     new islanders.
"We are different here," 
     they say together.
"We are like minded people."
We are like minded people.

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Inspired by the quote: “The propagandee, if deprived of one propaganda, will immediately adopt another; this will spare him the agony of finding himself vis-à-vis some event without a ready-made opinion, and obliged to judge it for himself.”

Jacques Ellul, Propaganda, 1965.