Father, I know this sea better than my blood.
Each night the waves invade, unattended,
storming this shore ceaselessly, shushing me

with authority I haven’t the strength
to oppose. And so I wait. And for what?
So that one night I may spy the glint

of moonlight on your sail and be forgotten?
Years of vigilance and it would come to this.
Better to brave the sea myself, lashing

kelp to driftwood, a makeshift ship to carry
me through another past, more familiar
than my own. Tell me, father, as I go,

who will wait for me to come home?

This call that ministers to my need—
is it true? Will it follow me now,
out of the harbor and into the night?

I want only you, no adventure or fight,
but you, ready to be shouldered
and brought back to your beginning.

If I give you this voyage, will it suffice?
Or will you need more, a lifetime seeking
what I
...

This article is available to subscribers and for individual purchase