The Monk And The Mermaid (Poetry)

He meditated by the shoreline
let the waves crawl round his feet
his eyes upon the far horizon
his thoughts where sky and heaven meet

The sea sang hymns both new and ancient
its voice was old and wild and strong
the pebbles rolled their loud percussion
the spray flew high and hissed along

The moon rose slowly from the water
climbed between the wisps of cloud
the shadows stretched like sleepers yawning
small silhouettes of gulls stood proud

His private audience then over
he turned and walked back up the beach
still deep in righteous contemplation
the world’s temptations out of reach

He did not dream that someone listened
heard his sermon and his prayer
spontaneous long conversations
with himself — no other there

She watched him as he waded stalwart
braved the freezing tide’s caress
clutching at his salt-caked habit
while emptying his soul’s distress

Every evening like a pilgrim
focused on some holy quest
he arrived and she would marvel
note the flutter in her breast

She took great care he didn’t see her
for fear he’d readily deny
she might exist outside of legend
decide the light had tricked his eye

and some illusion aimed to test him
had appeared from out the deep
with the intention to seduce him
break those vows he’d sworn to keep

As time wore on resolve grew weaker
desire for contact made her bold
an urgent recklessness took over
and undermined good reason’s hold

She chose her moment one fine evening
when slipping from behind a rock
she let him see her in full moonlight
and heard his sudden gasp of shock

Gently she sang to him in greeting
and opened wide her eager arms
amazed he froze — half-disbelieving
and half in horror of her charms

Quite unprepared for his rejection
she gave a cry of sheer dismay
and plunged back giddy in the water
in frantic wish to get away

He sat bemused, his heart still thumping
while mulling over what he’d seen
intrigued enough though rather doubtful
he searched around where she had been

He found a comb among the pebbles
she’d dropped it in her haste to flee
he handled it with trepidation
unsure of its reality

So delicately made from coral
its patterning picked out in pearls
and teeth carved fine to tame a mermaid’s
long and wild salt-tangled curls

He marvelled — random thoughts sent spinning
out across the unknown deep
head and heart choked up with longing
faith might take that awesome leap

He put her comb safe in his pocket
that night alone in his bare cell
he tossed and turned — his mind off wandering
the shingled beach he knew so well

Far out he saw her calmly waiting
on a rock — the ocean’s roar
mingled with her voice entreating
that he leave that joyless shore

Sacrifice his empty calling
obey his own romantic heart
and try more sensual ways of living
explore beyond convention’s chart

He woke up in a sweat-soaked panic
flung his tiny window wide
guilt gripped him in religious passion
he threw the curséd comb outside

Three nights he slept sound as a baby
the fourth one brought a cry from where
she stood with comb in hand lamenting
the moonlight glinting on her hair

He plugged his ears and lit a candle
then prayed to every saint he knew
but nothing dammed her flood of sorrow
raw waves of pain came seeping through

At last he weakened — grown bone-weary
admitted he was flesh and blood
surrendered to his baser instinct
half in fear and half in love

Confused he stumbled from the building
and met her outside face to face
resistance fell before such beauty
that flowed from her and lent its grace

She took his hand and led him seawards
through the shallows — mesmerized
the burning light of his conversion
fierce as twin coals in his eyes

She kissed him as she pulled him under
he willingly gave up his breath
thus she took him as her lover
transfigured by a drowning death

Who knows what ecstacy he suffered
the monks declared him ‘lost at sea’
wet robes heaped careless on the shoreline
the measure of his mystery

His crucifix gone to the fishes
they held the oddest funeral
with prayer sheets casting words on water
they tolled the abbey’s ancient bell

If brother Stephen heard their chanting
from the fathoms came no sign
they buried a plain empty coffin
no body and no one to mind

A local legend — just a story
whispered when the tide runs high
there’s some have sworn they’ve glimpsed two figures
one monk, one mermaid swimming by

Though moonlight clearly shows his tonsure
he’s sporting scales and silver fins
he traded in his cross and sandals
reborn a merman for his sins