SS Myron
The SS Myron was a wooden steamship built in 1888. She spent her 31-year career as lumber hooker, towing schooner barges on the Great Lakes. She sank in 1919 in a Lake Superior November gale. All of her 17 crew members were killed but her captain survived. He was found drifting on wreckage near Ile Parisienne. Her tow, the Miztec, survived. The Myron defied the adage that Lake Superior "seldom gives up her dead” when all 17 crewmembers were found frozen to death wearing their life jackets. Local residents chopped eight of the Myron sailors from the ice on the shore of Whitefish Bay and buried them at the Mission Hill Cemetery in Bay Mills Township, Michigan.
The Myron's steering wheel, steam whistle, and many other artifacts were illegally removed from her wreck site in the 1980s by members of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Historical Society. Her artifacts are now the property of the State of Michigan and are on display as a loan to the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. The wreck of the Myron is protected as part of an underwater museum in the Whitefish Point Underwater Preserve.
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by Cea Serin
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by Cea Serin
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by Cea Serin
The End Of Silence
by: Cea SerinDisregard the afterthought
No future lies dormant
These black painted stars and faint leprous skies
Peer out in scarred torment
But how bitter grace dawns them
Two eyes shocked and worn thin
Without mention of past or future's requiem
Torn from empty need
Though buried by lips of recourse
From light breaks a riven seed
And calls back the throe of remorse
The end of silence
Inhales the fragile side
The end of silence
Reflects on what's been tied
Hastened by the relevance
Whose seconds are tripled in esteem
Misshapen by regret
But crippled to redeem
A part that retires from mind
One vague moment in time
To covet a still life
And relive some half sight
Torn from empty need
Though buried by lips of recourse
From light breaks a riven seed
And calls back the throe of remorse
For all that's come
The advent of all that's come
And new words wrung
With new words and riddles rung
Atone the grief
Intone for all the grief
For self belief
For the wages of self belief
Embrace the absence
Tune back and look inside
At the end of silence
No plea can be justified
For all that's come
The advent of all that's come
And new words wrung
With new words and riddles rung
Atone the grief
Intone for all the grief
For self belief