POEM #8: Crossing Bantayan Channel

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Just a speck on a map

is an island on the Visayan sea;

I cross the channel on a trimaran

guiding a group of Danes and friends.

Swollen waves, white-crested;

shook the small craft splashing spray.

I hold on to the mast and gripped a cam;

assuring my guests that it is alright to shoot pics.

A half-hour seemed eternity

as the boat struggled in mid-stream;

all are wet except our gear under a tarp;

ashen-faced and cold, perhaps, murmuring a prayer.

A half-hour more and it is shore.

The determined skipper ably steered

his boat through huge waves as it rocked.

Oh, what skill; now, spurred on by all eyes on him.

The last of the nautical miles

came fast as the last of giant swells

loosen its grip upon the hapless outriggers

gifting us pristine white sand and a preview of paradise.

A virgin island lay bare;

a prize for anyone with a stout heart

to cross rough seas on a northeast monsoon

with just a prayer, a paper sail and a banana in hand.