Going Home
GOING HOME
How sweet to be swept by the tide
At last from this ocean earth-wide
And soon on the horizon to comb
For the mist-wrapped mountains of home.
Women mending nets, men at their ropes
Know we are coming, our cargo their hopes.
To hear their words, see their faces my heart beats
With the steady thrum of the breeze in the sheets.
My soul is worn and I cannot speak.
Snap of canvas and the halyard’s creak
Recall those endless days of fatigue -
But tell me we are closer league by league.
From salt-spawned days without number
The easy sway of the timbers
And the dip and plash of the prow
Are bringing me home from the brine now.
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