Perfect Storm

 
I am in the midst of my emotions,
amid the perfect storm.
Back in civilization,
back to a life reborn.
I find it hard to concentrate,
to go down to my workshop.
Each day I take small steps,
back from a time I can’t forget.
They grinding of the anchor,
as it is weighed on board.
The shout, of our Dutch seaman,
as they exhort us to pull more.
The smell of Fernardie’s cooking,
on a cold and windy night.
When all the world around us,
is cold and bleak with fright.
The warmth of the great saloon,
when those off watch below.
Know not of great hardship,
of the watch on deck above.
I am bonded to this ship,
in time, and thought and space.
I find it hard to seek reality,
for my life in another place.
I go down into my workshop,
glue in another piece of wood.
I watch the tide come in the river,
as I know it should.
I can’t help the way I’m feeling
<span style=”font-family: Papyrus”>I can’t help this sense of loss.
My ship has left without me
A world not easily forgot.
 
15.10.13