The Sailboat
The sailboat seemed to be the way
For us that are left after the attack that day
When everything stopped and refused to go
And planes just dropped from the sky and panic did grow
We found it moored at the North Haven pier
The few of us gathered close and near
For some just stopped living that day
When they sat and stared blankly away
And once and a while there was a pulse heard
That pierced our heads without a word
One of us knew the wind watching the gulls as around they flew
She took control giving directions of what to do
So we set sail towards the sun
For each one of us a new life begun
A band of broken people clinging together
Not knowing the way and a slave to the weather
Where do we go in such a broken world
That is barely holding together and to each other we are held
Not knowing if it is an invasion or a plan of nature
Looking for sanctuary and awaiting some sort of closure.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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