Dead In The Water

After we left Viet Nam
In autumn 1972,

I sat on the deck,

My back against the bulkhead

Of the helo hangar,

On the USS Trippe.

We sailed the Indian Ocean

Beyond the Gulf of Oman

Light blue skies above,

Dark blue ocean below,

Steady as she goes.

And then

Silence;

An eerie quiet

A calm rocking

Swayed into a big

Rocking.

Interior alarms

People yelling,

“Dead in the water!

Dead in the water.”

I sat on the deck,

My back against the bulkhead

Of the helo hangar,

On the USS Trippe.

Enjoying the quiet,

Feeling the rocking,

Ignoring the commotion,

Imagining sailors of old

Floating on the swells

Of the Indian Ocean

When the wind

Took a nap

And the

Silence:

And eerie quiet,

A calm rocking

That swayed into a big

Rocking

Without the alarms

Just the swells,

Light blue skies above,

Dark blue ocean below.