Unfurrow the mast, ready the sails
If only to be
once again
Wrapped in the loving arms of Mother Earth
Whispering in the ear of life
If only to be
not marooned in this misery
Relief, a paper anchor
Drifting far from home
Pushed and pulled by the currents
The waves lash and pummel the deck
The jailor cackles while you joust with the elements
Sanity, a frayed rope
Unraveling at the edges
Clinging to anything in desperation
Infinitely Tethered to the shifting shapeless nothing
The sun beats down mercilessly
Never resting, always burning
Security, a thin worn blanket
Tiny and fragile
Broken threads and gaping holes
The corroded mast cries
Canvas cloth against strong gulls
Destruction, the beating wind
Tearing through carefully laid plans
Cutting through the soul in every direction
This godforsaken grave of turbulent tides
The dingy dips and shudders
Shouldering the weight of the world
Sorrow, the tumultuous water
A mirage of forgotten memories
Consuming all save the sky
if only to be
swept ashore
Once and for all
Fatigue, the wooden masts
Forever tilted by rough seas
Violently clawing at the sky
Unfurrow the mast, ready the sails
Sailing from sorrow, sailing to sunrise
Relief, a paper anchor
Drifting far from home
Pushed and pulled by the currents
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem