Wreckage

December 1, 2020

They say, in the old days

when warriors went forth

to do a great deed,

they would find a wise woman

and ask her blessing.

Sweet child, you know

that these are dangerous waters

and the ships bold enough

to sail them often sink,

hulls breached,

sailors drowned.

So when you float back to shore

clinging to a piece of the wreckage,

I will tend your wounds,

heal you as best I can.

I will not remind you

that I saw the storm

over the horizon,

that I begged you not to go.

I will hold you

until your tears subside,

grasp shaking hands,

murmur blessings over you,

brave one.

My heart breaks for you

and I cannot confess

that I am not wise enough

I am not strong enough

to raise your ship from the waters.

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