Look To the Harbor
I sat on the rocks
By the New Bedford docks
And waited for his boat to return
But the sun went to hiding
Bringing ever bad tidings
And a sea where last lessons are learned
My time spent in vain
For not even a plane
Could find a boat headed out of that storm
As the sea roiled upward
My hopes were dragged under
Which my soul was to curse and then scorn
And the streets emptied out
Churches packed and devout
As the old ones did swear and rebuke
The women all cried
With new legends reprised
As the Parson read words in tribute
Till at the church by the dock
From whence he had left
From its window I yelled through the tears…
“Look to the harbor this night,
the mourning over, I sight:
—My Daddy’s Gaff Schooner is here”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
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