“Lord,
You know my wrongs,
Wipe the tears off the hopeless sailor –
And command the ship back to the port...at last.”
Mother,
You know I left the light on intentionally, right?
I heard a soft rattle coming from inside,
So, I decided to step in.
I found myself – crawling on the floor –
I hadn’t learned how to walk yet –
But I saw you in the room,
And I also saw you out the room –
In the porch… lighting your unholy cigarettes,
In the nighttime light – once more.
It’s probably what led to your cancer –
Old habits die hard I guess.
But mom – I saw you,
In the room.
With your golden hair –
Illuminating the atmosphere...
And the sea of yellow unfolded all the mysteries of the world.
The glimmering light flickered on my innocent face
And I – was a captain –
I maneuvered the ship through the treacherous waters
And I embarked on a voyage to enlightenment.
The curls of the waves engulfed me in
The thrust and the shove and the whip of the wind –
Only, I was at the helm.
I wasn’t accustomed to leadership –
I didn’t even realize the pitfalls lurking in the depths
Of the amber abyss.
But I – was hands on wheel.
So I dragged the wheel starboard
And the keel splashed with the foamy tide
And I – was one with the drive.
The lightning strikes lit the darkness,
And the winds were releasing a sigh.
So the stern gave a wobble
And the masts were unsure of their strength
But the sails continued to fly –
And the golden embers of the sea were alight
With a bubbling sense of discernment.
Through a bare and endless horizon –
The yellowness seemed to shine.
But how can it be when the Father Ship
Sailed away from harbor?
How can it be when the Mother Ship crumbled
Into the sorrowing sea?
How can it be that a sea can glow,
Despite the one in the boat being an...
Unconfident, fearful, timid bag of bones?
But see,
I discovered,
That in order to command a boat in a raging ocean,
You have to learn to anchor yourself first.
My whole life I expected others to be the anchor,
To be the firmness and courage that I couldn’t grasp.
I thought that resting assured on another –
Would bring me closer to myself – but I was wrong.
And with that,
The golden sea began to roll itself back onto the scalp
Of my mother.
And the little me picked up a toy ship –
And began to play.
So I took one last glimpse at the scene:
My mom on the sofa admiring the child.
I think she knows,
That I left the shining sea on intentionally.
And I carefully stepped back and closed the door.
But I had made sure to rip a piece of the sail before I left –
And decided to make it into a canvas.