The Motherless

You have lost your compass, dear.

Map and rudder too.

Adrift in seas of people,

None to see you through.

What has happened to your sail, child?

Where has your anchor gone?

The storm is growing nearer.

What clothes have you to don?

Stand up, my weary sailor.

Fix shoulder to the dawn.

Pray to the One above;

Below, old souls spur on.

Here are stars to guide you,

Winds to carry you home.

She who was beside you,

Now inside wherever you roam.

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky's "Stormy Sea at Night," 1849, Pavlovsk Palace, Saint Petersburg