for the five-member crew
                                                     of the OceanGate Titan  

Dared to dive deep, to
live a slip of history, to
break landlubbing chains
and sit beneath the sea
trading legends and myths. 

You did this, striven
and driven to risk it all
to dive where the Titanic
did fall and fail to return
its fading souls to us.

Now see Titan’s nose
cone, its pressured hull,
fore and aft, asleep near
the great ship’s bow,
married vessels vowed.

She will watch over you,
keeping you warm with
White Star linens; sailors
standing guard over your
remains from her masts.

John Phillips will man
the wireless as he did
his final night, telegrams
transcending time
to minds above: all is alright.

Far from chilling waves,
your harvest of salvage
someday will be harbored
for verdant voyagers
in exhibits yet unmade,

for sometimes
bits of history
are all we have left.