Like badges of honor--Not drowning, not sinking, not disintegrating entirely
Is a cause for pride--
Their broken backs and cracked or missing ribs
Are bared to the bleaching sun
For all to see and imagine
What truth they will
Of what broke them down.
Corpses of dinghies and dorries--
Call them what you want--
Litter this marina.
The message of their brokenness
Is I believe this:
Fight the tide, and you will die.
Die fighting, and we will not bury you.
If you can't handle this cove,
This safe little place off the not very dangerous Sound,
We will make of you an objet d'art.
We will decorate our lives with your defeat.
We will sit alongside you, drink beer, tan our bodies,
And perhaps lean against you as we turn our faces to the sun.
3 Comments
Gee, yours is full of strong, good images.
ReplyDeleteSometimes maybe Robert Louis Stevenson's words apply, too:
UNDER the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you 'grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Thanks, Greg. I didn't know this piece before you came along. I likes it lots.
ReplyDeleteMaybe I ought to dedicate this little piece to all the soldiers in Iraq who can't read blogs because--because somebody said so.
Whoa! Don't get me started! (grin)
ReplyDeleteThanks for being here.