The sand is cool upon my back.
The sun brings warmth to my broken body.
I lay where I had fallen, exhausted.
The waves reach my feet, caress them.
Gulls. I can hear their laughter
and it makes me smile.
Eyes closed, smiling,
I listen to the gulls.
Land. Precious land. Heaven.
Spirit, my love,
lays anchored beyond the surf.
She has delivered us, safe.
Through receding consciousness
I think vaguely about our voyage together.
Storms of staggering terror and
astonishing violence;
Unending days blown hopelessly off course;
Starless, moonless nights of dreadful,
perfect darkness;
Unyielding doldrums turning sea into desert;
Merciless rogue waves;
Squalls appearing viciously from nowhere;
Broken spars,
broken rigging,
broken body…
…I awake to moonlight.
Sitting up and looking out,
I see her perfect outline,
rocking gently, bucking ever so lightly
against anchor chain.
Morning will bring outgoing tide
and she will want to sail again.
She will go through it all again.
For she is - my love - a ship,
and that is what she does.
And I, with her,
and mended body now,
will gladly go.
.