This Sea Within, Without – A Poem

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Central America, conflict, Deborah J. Brasket, History, Latin America, life, Nature, Novel, poem, poetry, sea, This Sea Within, Ukraine, war

by Joaquin Sorolla

I wrote this poem for a novel I’m writing about love and war in Central America. It’s written in the voice and style of a 19th century poet about the ceaseless, ongoing struggles that have ravaged his land since before the Conquistadors. As they have been going on Ukraine since the Vikings plundered tribal villages, before the Mongols came and slaughtered all of them, before Hitler, before Putin.

This poem speaks to the ceaseless cycles of peace and plunder that haunt our histories and our hearts, but also to the spirit of the people who weather such storms. Although it will no doubt undergo further revisions before the novel is ready to hand over to my agent, I wanted to share it with you now, in honor of the brave spirit of the Ukrainian people who are weathering this storm today.

This Sea Within, Without

This sea that lies within, without, all things,
All bodies, minds, and soaring hearts and grasping hands,
Past, present, and evermore.
This ceaseless stirring, this Siren’s call, these froward thoughts
And listless rhythms that know no end.
This urgent quest.

This sea that it throws itself upon our shores
With grand bluster, heaving boulders and breaking cliffs,
Leaving in its wake a disaster of debris,
The detritus of society and small broken things,
A child’s bracelet, an empty bottle, shattered shells and battered lives,
Fallen faces like
Flies rummaging through abandoned seaweed.

This sea within, without, unbroken in its vastness,
Spreads out like a calm comforting blanket of blue, its lacy
Traces whispering secrets in our ears,
Seducing us with sleepless dreams as it
Reaches across the sand to wash our feet and sings its pleasure in the sun,
Its tender kisses everywhere,
Its mesmerizing music everywhere,
Calling children, and lovers young and old, to its shores,
To romp among its waves like playful porpoises,
Safe as sand.

And so it lures and soothes and laments,
Before it lashes out, breaking
Whole continents apart
Leaving all in ruin.

This Sea within, without,
Pouring across the centuries in
Endless rhythmic cycles of peace and plunder,
Plunder and peace,
Ever restless, relentless.

This sea within, without
Each heart, each nation, each age and eon.
We and sea and all that lies between,
Taking our pleasure where we may in warm, balmy breezes,
Finding our strength in broad strokes as we surf and swim,
Taking our lives into our hands as we resist
Its uprising roar
As it crashes down and drowns our dreams.

O drowning heart, O vale of tears
O lovers lost, O sons and daughters,
O detritus of raging storms,
Be not dismayed.
As ceaseless as the turmoil is, so is the spirit that rides upon it
And survives to rise again.

Savor the sun’s sweet kisses and the balmy breezes,
Hold them close, don’t let go.
Even when the broad drowning seas rise up and crash down,
Do not despair.
Tis the way of weather,
And of weathered hearts, and leathered minds,
And grasping hands, and the sons of man.

So we lay our hearts and histories
Upon such shores as storms do rage
And retreating bare all to see
Such luster still in the strong arms and stalwart hearts
Of souls long lost.

Where all that’s left of mighty ships’ splintered rails
And torn sails sink below and wait to rise
Once more. Once more.

By Deborah J. Brasket, 2022, from the novel This Sea Within

The poem is read by the protagonist of my novel on a plane heading toward a war-torn country in Central America in 1973. On the plane she’s been reading the history of Latin America starting with the conquistadors and the destruction of two major civilizations that had persisted for 3500 years until the Cortez arrived. The history continues with ongoing struggles of so many countries in Central America to become independent nations, and then to break the hold of one brutal dictator after another, each propped up by the United States after the Monroe Doctrine went into effect. The constant civil wars and guerrilla warfare in the region, and her own country’s involvement in that is disheartening, to say the least, to the young, idealistic woman.

But then she reads the poem of one of the most cherished poets from that region which speaks to this very condition of constant strife, and surprisingly, it heartens her.

I don’t know if it will hearten you as well, but I thought I’d offer it here in that spirit.

The Roman Forum, An Ancient Relic Then & Now

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ancient ruins, History, Paintings, photography, Rome, The Roman Forum, travel

The Roman Forum lies right behind the Colosseum, that I wrote about last week. It is the great plaza where Caesar and Augustus and other Roman emperors once trod and, like the Colosseum, has been a mecca for tourists, artists and photographers down through the ages.

It was mostly in ruins when the Vikings first sailed up the Tiber River to gaze at this wonderland of antiquity.

A View of the Roman Forum today, image from Wikipedia

I was there for one short and very hot afternoon last summer. I didn’t take as many photos as I wish I had, but the views I’ve become most enamored by are the ones that artists painted hundreds of years ago. You will find my photos mixed among those below.

By Giovanni Paolo Panini, 1691 – 1765

By Cannaletto in 1742

By Franz Kaisermann, 1765 – 1833

Watercolor by David Roberts, 1835

Time-Traveling Through the Streets of Pompeii

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archaeology, Europe, History, Italy, photography, Pompeii, travel, vacation

One of my favorite stops during my travels last summer was visiting the ancient ruins of Pompeii, a sprawling city buried beneath 15 feet of ash and pumice when Mt. Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD.

It was such a strange feeling to be walking along the streets and into the homes and bath houses of people whose lives had been buried in an instant for centuries. We only had three hours to see what needed several days, at least, to explore fully. But I still came away feeling deeply moved, and somewhat eerie, as if I was voyeur peeking through the curtains of time into private quarters never meant for my eyes.

It was fascinating how much of the colorful frescoes, painted tiles, and sculptured wall friezes survived; how wide and well-paved the streets and  sidewalks were; and how many clay pots and urns remained intact buried beneath the ash. Also buried were the bodies of those unable to escape in time. Those final moments are now memorialized in plaster casts.

In Bruges – “Like Being in a Fairy Tale”

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architecture, Belgium, Bruges, culture, Europe, fairy tale, Film, History, In Bruges, photography, travel

In the brilliant dark comedy “In Bruges,” a mobster sends his two hitmen to Bruges to cool their heels after a job went horribly wrong. What the two men don’t know is that they were sent there so they could have a beautiful “fairy tale” experience before one partner was ordered to kill the other. Things don’t go quite as the boss had planned.

But he was right about one thing. The film’s brooding, atmospheric cinematography did create a fairy-tale, dream-like veil through which the city’s medieval history, fabulous architecture, graceful bridges, and misty canals are revealed.

In person, Bruges does not disappoint. It was one of my favorite stops on our European adventure and I’d love to see more of it someday. Three days was not enough. There are more cobblestone streets to explore, more art museums to visit, more boat rides down misty canals. More Belgian chocolate, beer, and waffles for that matter.

The city’s many canals, bridges, and swans are favorites, of course. Bruges is known as the Venice of the North, and since I wasn’t able to get to Venice this trip, it made this city even more special to me.

Then there was the history and the architecture! From the quaint little corners of the city . . .

. . . to the spacious and grand central plaza with its flags and cafes, shops and towers.

Bruges was full of comic surprises and delights . . .

from the sign above a restaurant “water closet” . . .

. . . to the intimate peek into a doctor’s office on display outside a ceramic shop . . .

. . . the comforting clip-clop of horses hoofs coming up behind you . . .

. . . or a great white whale rising out of the canal.

Then there was the chocolate, the waffles, and the beer . . .

I’m not much of a beer drinker but I did find a fruity blend that suited me quite well.

These were just a few of my favorite memories of this fairy-tale, dream-like city. For more, watch the film, it won’t disappoint.

A Rainy Day in Segovia

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Alcazar, Europe, History, photography, Roman Aquaduct, Segovia, Spain, travel, vacation

One of my favorite side-trips when traveling in Europe was the day we spent in Segovia, viewing the Roman Aqueducts and visiting the Alcazar, a 12th century castle where Queen Isabella grew up.

The Roman Aqueduct is by far the most dramatic feature of a city full of beautiful landmarks. Built in the 1st century, it  rises nearly 100 feet tall and reaches over 2600 feet long, consisting of over 170 arches and 25,000 granite blocks, all built without mortar. It delivered water to the city for over 1800 years, until the mid 19th century.

The city through which it passes is a painter’s palette of raw sienna, burnt umber, and yellow ochre, stitched together with narrow streets of cobblestone and brick pavers.

We stroll through the damp streets with the patter of raindrops on our umbrellas, stopping often  to visit the quaint little shops along the way, to watch the street performers play, and to snap photos of each other.

We love the ornate doorways we find, the flower-filled balconies, and richly textured walls we pass.

Eventually the narrow streets lead us into large plazas, as it does here before the Iglesia de San Estaban with its Romanesque bell tower, built in the 14th century.

The largest plaza on our walk opens up to reveal the jewel of the city, Segovia Cathedral, built in the mid 16th century. It is considered a masterpiece of Basque-Castilian Gothic architecture and is known as “The Lady of Cathedrals.”

Surrounding the spacious plaza are an array of sidewalk cafes and tall, elegant buildings.

Another steep climb from the plaza leads to the Alacazar. It sits high above the city on a  stony crag with steep cliffs falling to the Castilian valley below. The castle, first referenced in 1120, was a favored residence of the Spanish Royals. This is where Queen Isabella spent her youth. Where she fled with her husband Ferdinand for protection from her enemies when they were newly married.  And it’s where she was finally was crowned Queen of Castile and Leon.

It’s tall towers and turrets are said  to be the inspiration for Disneyland’s castle, but several other castles claim that distinction as well.

Inside the castle is a dazzling array of richly decorated halls, chapels and armories.

The views from the ramparts are dizzying as well as dazzling, revealing lush forested hillsides, . . .

. . . fairy-tale villages winding along the riverside . . .

. . .and panoramic views of the city of Segovia.

Here you can see the towers of Segovia Cathedral and the Iglesia de San Estaban in the distance. Note too the ancient walls that surround the city, built before Isabella’s father retook the city from the Arabs.

I’m asked all the time which were my favorite places to visit during our 30 days of travel, but I can’t quite pin that down, there were so many.  Still, when asked, Segovia always rises quickly to mind.

If you ever get the chance to visit Spain, the city of Segovia is a must-see.