The Great Ship
Many obsess over
The vessel that brought us
How it leaves without us
How it never comes back
Sleepless nights
pondering its provenance
Wondering why it came—
Routine delivery or rescue mission
In the middle of the night,
An extrication of innocents
From a place far worse.
Others are more concerned with the vessel
That will take them away from here.
Their metaphor for the meaning of life becomes:
the search for the great ship!
Which, if found, flips the script
And transforms a forlorn story of a child
Abandoned, forgotten, now trapped
On a silent spinning rock
Into an epic tale of escape and redemption
Ending with a return to hazily remembered home
Or deliverance to the unimaginable land
Originally intended.
Soon it becomes apparent that no ship is coming
And so they try to make their own
Which proves to be a challenge.
A desperate scavenging for raw materials ensues—
Scraps of wood and wire, tar and resin
Bones and hair, blood and sweat,
Suffering and love
Hatred and vengeance
Listing and leaking and sinking
Scuttling on the shallows offshore.
The ship becomes a boat becomes a raft,
Not even seaworthy by the end,
Washed up on an empty beach—
A bed on the sand
As waves crash over them
I won't be building a ship, myself.
I’ve seen so many in ruins
I try to keep things simple.
This place is what I know
And all I will ever know.
I’m incurious of the circumstances
Of my arrival
Or what happens when it’s over.
Sprinkle my ashes in the grasses
Of wide windy meadows
Land locked in the vast interior
Of this old continent.
Wait for a sunny day in autumn, please,
Some place where you can see the mountains
And feel a chilly afternoon breeze—
I have never really cared for the sea.
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