Widows Lament Pastel 400 Grit Uart 8 ply board 12 x 18

I have spent a good portion of my life up in Gloucester, Rockport, Magnolia, and all along the coast of New England. My relatives are from that area and I knew well about those that go down to the sea in ships. I had an uncle who lost an arm working on a fishing trawler and a relative have his boat wrecked at Norman’s Woe, famed for the Wreck of the Hesperus made famous in Longfellow’s’ poem. The hard life of being a fisherman was one of great toil and little reward for those who worked the boats. Yet something about the sea shall always call the human spirit and it was no different for the men and later women who left the safety of harbors and shore to ply their trade, to catch fish, to be one with the sea. Each time the lines were cast off, the spouse might stand upon the dock, children in tow, wondering, is this the last time they would see their love. Was he truly her love, or was love of the sea first in his heart. Would love for the sea claim yet another. They knew storms in these parts come upon the coast quickly. Racing up the east coast from the Carolinas, the counter clockwise spin of the winds causing a northeast wind to rival any hurricane found in warmer climates. Yet mouths needed to be fed. Bills need to be paid and as his wife bid farewell, the last kiss still moist upon their lips, when those storms came, one could not help but think, this time maybe they should have held on a little longer, begged a little harder. Maybe this time, they could break the seduction of the sea, the sound of the sirens calling her husband, to his death. As the last image faded from site, as the storm kicked up, with each drop of rain, each rush of wind, would brush and mingle with the tears of a widow’s lament for letting him go.