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An Old Sailor

14 Mar

     I went out on the deck—felt the wind of the presence –before the jibe caught the gust of a yesterday’s breeze blowing into the sail. 

     The keel visibly surfaced two feet above foaming water, in an awkward lean, water marks on the humming board, visible as eye could see —Oh shit! I braced myself against the rail on tippy-toes. leaning in the opposite direction, baptized by the sea.

      Tapping the “Captain” on the shoulder, I went below.I rocked and balanced myself with each swell of cresting ten-foot waves; catching myself descending with arms extended against the polished teak stairs and the polished walls into the belly of the bow.

      Remembering the keel’s markings “MY LIFE”; both hands against the wall, I balanced myself, being driven across the course of tomorrow.

       I will continue to sail —as sea mist foams against the closing rocks of the shore.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on March 14, 2020 in Prose Poetry, religion, Wisdom, Zen

 

Tags: , , ,

One response to “An Old Sailor

  1. Sherry Marr

    March 14, 2020 at 9:07 pm

    I love that “being driven across the course of tomorrow” – as am I. We continue to sail. I tip my jib to you, kind sir. Smiles.

    Liked by 1 person

     

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