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