Tupaia

Tupaia was a knowledgeable man.
An artist with a cunning eye for detail.
A linguist well able to converse with
Polynesians from across the globe.

But most of all he was a navigator
Able to sail across the trackless ocean.
Among his people it conferred upon him
A status second only to a king.

Wayfinders were steeped in oral lore.
They could draw charts, make astrolabes,
Observe the currents, and the winds and stars
Deduce directions from the flight of birds.

One day a vessel from an unknown kingdom
Made landfall on his isolated island.
Aliens appeared, with awesome weapons,
Trading cloth and iron nails for food.

He begged the aliens to take him with them
Before they re-embarked to leave the island.
The voyage of a lifetime, one from which
He was unlikely ever to return.

He painted maps and pictures for the captain.
With his keen eye he drew the captain too.
He so impressed the Maoris that they gave him
A sumptuous cloak stitched from the skins of dogs.

He sailed with Captain Cook to many islands.
In time he would have reached the shores of England.
But, docking for repairs at Batavia,
He fell ill… and sailed the seas no more.

Whyever would a man forsake his homeland,
Nevermore to see familiar places,
Come ashore to dwell among his people,
Set eyes once more upon his lover’s face?

Why be so surprised? Would not an artist
Long for novelties to draw; a linguist
New people to converse with; a wayfinder
New islands to discover and explore?

Ian Clark
2016, 2023