Cement is Setting On The Furling Sails Of My Ship

Photo by Cezary Kukowka on Unsplash

My mind drifts.

Thoughts disperse in tiny cuts
as the whip licks its lips.

Memories break away
in large grey chunks of ice
and crash into the sea
sinking out of sight.

I lose the marks and blazes on the path
and mourn their loss.
I wonder why I throw my tears
against the wailing wall.

Demons drink their tea
while curling in my ears.

They leave a swirling trail
of leaves in the bottom of my cup.

I cannot read them.
Cement is setting
on the furling sails of my ship.

I trace the patterns
of the grains in hardened sand
until it falls
between my fingers.
As I lose the trail again,
I do not know what course to set.

I am adrift.

You take my hand
and walk beside me
as we track a memory past.
We wade through thoughts
that try to pull us off the path.

I stumble and you tighten your grip.
When we reach the clearing
where the sun
paints mottled patterns
on the grass,

We take a breath
and then we walk
together into the bliss.

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If you enjoyed this poem, have a look at my book, We Swallow Light. It’s an exploration of events in a past life and a refreshing take on overcoming pain and the joy of finding love.

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