THE EMPRESS OF IRELAND
Two mighty workhorses, colliding Titans,
Leviathans of the Saint Lawrence river.
Devastation’s maritime wrecking balls,
Slamming head on, even after the warnings
Sounding, had been given, by Captain Kendall.
Emerging on the starboard side, a distant light
Did shine, from the masthead on high.
The tramper steamer, S.S. Storstad,
Heavily loaded by coals freight,
Didn't hear the captain's hailing.
Lost within an eerie, thickened fog bank,
All hands struggled in full reverse,
But the wheels of fate, had been set,
In motions wake, and it was
Coming straight towards them, at
Rapid speeds full velocity.
Horns rang out, life boats were lowered
Broad side, voices yelled abandon ship,
Captured unaware, shaken from their beds.
Passengers scrabbled to the higher
Decks elevation, as the chilling waters
Slashed through the torn apart,
And breached forward hull.
Death's black ghost ship, lies moored
Near by, ready to take on board, it's
Newest crew members, the grim
Reapers flag, flies at half mast.
Until the full compliments roll call, has
Been filled, by the dead's unwilling
Clinging to the life raft of spiritualism,
The living pray, for a last reprieves
Salvation, a miracle to save them,
But hell's vessel awaits and it's
Master has no mercy.
Histories stretches a gray shroud,
Across the debris field, as their
Voices grow silent, beneath the
A lone, cold, monument does stand,
At Rimouski St-Germain cemetery , in Quebec, Canada.
Expressing the details of this misfortune.
But it will never satisfy the sorrows felt,
By the survivors or family members
Whom were lost that early May morning.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013