The Buoyancy Of Hope... Poem by John Tansey

When you are lost a sea, in its vast blueness.
No food, water or other help,
Hope is all that remains;
In assuming the shape of some sunken ship’s lumber:

A rotted, buoyant timber,
That comes floating toward you upon the waves:
A monotonous, unending sameness,
Its mundane but dangerous salt-sea water,

It is in the shape of a ship’s mast, this cross;
Like the lingering iron beams from the towers.

This crucifix that you cling onto,
Heave yourself over,
Wrap your arms around
And praying, like Noah,
That it take you to land

Or some such safe Harbor…


(9.9.7)