June Photo Prompt: Just One

One thousand, four hundred and fifteen

Amongst so many, what is one more?

The loss that made a country ask,

could it still rule the waves?

A tragedy so great,

our figurehead lost

46,680 tonnes of pride and majesty.

What right have I to mourn?

What were my eleven stones of loss?

So slight they barely rippled the surface,

of the strait that claimed them for its own,

son, brother, friend

a soft smile

a gentle word

a loving touch

a hole in my heart the size of the ocean

which stopped his

a sister bereft

a mother prostrate

a grief too great to bear

reaching forward through the years.

National tragedy

forever remembered

Hood, a name of world-renown

but the crew who were its beating heart remain largely anonymous

little more than a number,

a list on a website,

a memorial,

dwarfing the stokers, the gunners, the telegraphists,

for what is one

in one thousand, four hundred and fifteen?

But he was my one.

Generally, on these posts, I leave my poems to speak for themselves. However, in this case, I feel I need to add a little more to it. Whilst this could be about any one of the men who died on HMS Hood, in fact it was written about one in particular. The short one and I met two of his family members and hearing their stories and memories of receiving the news, as well as the impact it had on the family, was incredibly moving. This poem is the result of that chance meeting and was written in memory of that 'one' stoker.

Photo of the 80th anniversary memorial (during Covid) reproduced here with the kind permission of Ronald Faulkner's family

For more information about HMS Hood, I would advise visiting the Hood Association website: https://www.hmshood.org.uk