The Lighthouse Keeper
In this season he knows
we are smaller than wind,
as the storm blast sings
through the boarded glass.
He opens his door
to the sting and stab of rain,
making his way as he leans
under the arc-lamp light.
In the radio house he listens
to distress codes a ship sends,
signals coming from the black
mouth of the obliterating sea.
No one can help them.
He can’t respond but by prayer
and the light he throws
to every soul out there.