Drawing by Judith Wolfe
SHARON SWEET

Poem


      The Understanding of a Sailor

      Can anyone stand, pensive? Because she did.
      As close to the shoreline as she could bare,
      wary of it's touch.
      Hypnotic waves rolled in no answers,
      why he danced with the devil in the brine.
      While the ocean wind rustled her hair like his fingers
      she stared over the waves, and waited.
      When the sea exhaled, she watched
      as they rode the waves,
      souls of the deep carrying them home.

      Against an ocean taller than wide
      he sailed his luck.
      Into a storm built from winds of genocide
      he swathed in a life-saving boat.
      Fighting coral demons
      for the essence of seaweed-tangled strangers.
      Anguish in her prayers harboured him
      from salt-laden lashes,
      to ride home victorious, alive.


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