Tacking On The Styx
Where the Styx is wide the Earth is fen.
by Jeffrey Hatcher
No dock transcends the mud
To tie a boat to or to lend
A vantage point to spie Elysian Fields.
A marsh allows no walking progress,
So we leave shore to tack upon the Styx,
Searching upstream for a firmer mooring,
Veering to Hades when the current commands,
And back again, trusting keel and sail, not oaring.
One cannot tack and keep an even keel.
There is a current to deflect and bring to heel.
When current strains our vessel to excess
We harbor midway on the Isle of Ativan,
But life demands real land, and so
We must launch out again to tack upon the Styx.