Waiting To Be NothingA Poem by PerditionReturning
from Bombay- I
grew restless there
were islands still to wear Strange
children in the salt
and waves rolling in the pause some
nights I hesitate A
mariner more than others I
see them as they are Mean
and meant for higher seas if
not the ships at storm than who are we If
not the old oak and fear casting land onto hemisphere Who
are we… if
not to sea than who are we to speak of depth again days
and days I burn- shallow
pockets and spare loose smiles how
long has it been since the innocence has felt so honest in these hands build
me a ship made of bone and I
will sail you to life's highest peek Build
it of stone and I
will port you in the wicked briar or set
you on the bridge of hell and hide Christ
held from blood stains, thorn and lies build
me a ship where
the elders curse their sleep in dreams of whiskey and wine here
I'll declare the anchor set a
boarder of both bottle and sky here
I will live my crowded lives a
leper to the cavern's mind the
end to a sentence that once the mighty handed had regard I
will free the stars with my lungs lanterns
off the port a
totem to the reckless in this life and
it will be here where the branch stands beneath me It
will be here that I will count the rest of my days let
Buddha weep his beads in silence and
the fire crackle prayers one by one O
how I’ll grow my nothing day by day my
freedoms bow to storm lightning
is the harbor I have set with shallows made of fleet the
pace of night with heaven’s gale in glance is
where I stand casting
shackles out to sea alive
in what will live
waiting
to be nothing © 2018 PerditionReviews
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Added on December 7, 2018Last Updated on December 8, 2018 Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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