For the
second time.
Don't think it's possible?
It happened today, and in 1992.
Both times, I was devastated and demoralized.
I should have been more prepared,
But the next time is no easier.
Like losing both of your children.
Double tragedy.
Double time in the prison of pain and anguish.
You see, I'm a Newfoundlander (NL),
And I'm here because of fish.
Centuries of fish.
So plentiful, we fed the world.
So blessed, we took it for granted.
Our breed took to the Atlantic waves
Like fish to water.
We were born with salt soaring
through our bodies and bold spirits.
We were a rare tribe who dared to come and stay, and survive and at times, soared.
Our faithful friend was always there to cheer us on,
Don't think it's possible?
It happened today, and in 1992.
Both times, I was devastated and demoralized.
I should have been more prepared,
But the next time is no easier.
Like losing both of your children.
Double tragedy.
Double time in the prison of pain and anguish.
You see, I'm a Newfoundlander (NL),
And I'm here because of fish.
Centuries of fish.
So plentiful, we fed the world.
So blessed, we took it for granted.
Our breed took to the Atlantic waves
Like fish to water.
We were born with salt soaring
through our bodies and bold spirits.
We were a rare tribe who dared to come and stay, and survive and at times, soared.
Our faithful friend was always there to cheer us on,
to keep us clinging to
this miserable, but marvellous stretch of shore.
It put a song into our outports.
It led us forward to dance on every wharf
It wanted us to embrace and hear the hum of the ocean and hymn of the harbours.
And so, it kept thriving and arriving, year after century.
There was no doubting its loyalty.
We were separable.
Cosmic destiny.
We created a majestic melody, not to be out-stretched by any other culture.
And then one day, it all changed.
Boats from afar came and changed our genetic code and coves.
It outpaced our ancient connection.
Soon, we drifted apart, my friend and me.
Until one day the death sentence came
July 2, 1992;
and I was left alone and broken,
Within and without,
It put a song into our outports.
It led us forward to dance on every wharf
It wanted us to embrace and hear the hum of the ocean and hymn of the harbours.
And so, it kept thriving and arriving, year after century.
There was no doubting its loyalty.
We were separable.
Cosmic destiny.
We created a majestic melody, not to be out-stretched by any other culture.
And then one day, it all changed.
Boats from afar came and changed our genetic code and coves.
It outpaced our ancient connection.
Soon, we drifted apart, my friend and me.
Until one day the death sentence came
July 2, 1992;
and I was left alone and broken,
Within and without,
on every stage, flake
and beach rock.
Alienated from my breath and depth.
As the heart-breaking cries of my ancestors echoed from the hills and graves.
Still, I carried on.
Stoic, but strangled, sorrowful,
Alienated from my breath and depth.
As the heart-breaking cries of my ancestors echoed from the hills and graves.
Still, I carried on.
Stoic, but strangled, sorrowful,
stranded, far from the
shores of my spirit.
My destiny, it seemed.
I accepted my fate.
And then the news came
Decades later.
That you might be returning.
Ready for a renewed commitment
Of our bond and our covenant.
I held my breath, allowing just a jig of excitement.
Then, today
I hear the sea-shattering news.
"Northern Cod has passed away ... "
Obit 2
And my soul shatters once again in the storm-whipped waves.
Without my faithful friend,
I am desecrated and endangered.
And my salty tears stain
All that was sacred on
our soil, shore and sea.
My destiny, it seemed.
I accepted my fate.
And then the news came
Decades later.
That you might be returning.
Ready for a renewed commitment
Of our bond and our covenant.
I held my breath, allowing just a jig of excitement.
Then, today
I hear the sea-shattering news.
"Northern Cod has passed away ... "
Obit 2
And my soul shatters once again in the storm-whipped waves.
Without my faithful friend,
I am desecrated and endangered.
And my salty tears stain
All that was sacred on
our soil, shore and sea.
I mourn again,
because
I'm a Newfoundlander.
-30-
