Two miles down
In the eerie dark depths
She sleeps
The cold current sweeps across the barnacled rails of the bow
Indifferently
Down the twisted staircase
And through the encrusted remains of the lower decks.
The shards of a teacup swirl in a tiny whirlpool of sand
While neon blue fish swim in and out of the portholed sockets of the hull
Oblivious to the terror of a fateful crossing
One midnight long ago.
The haunting screams of the dying
Forever echo far above
In the idle-busy world of men
But here
The stillness is sublime
A sacred resting
The quiet peaceful watch
Of eternity.