Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The tide has betrayed you.
Abandoned, struggling to keep upright,
exposed and naked in an untidy breeze.
Sunlight sears your unsheltered planks,
small stones clatter paint and varnish
in zephyr breaths.
You wait impatiently for the briney return
cooling, lubricating and gently supportive.
You long for the pounding lash of wave
that proves you are alive
challenges your workmanship
the shipwrights hand.
You were made for test and trial,
for work, for experience.
To be here in belligerent isolation
is to be without purpose.
This is not peace, this is not respite,
this is not retreat nor recreation;
this is the sentence without parole
a shingled imprisoning shore
when the soul longs for the sea of love.
Posted by Keith Wallis at 1:02 pm