Safe Harbor '70
I walk on this beach each morning
Leaving my footprints in the soft, drenched sand,
Prints that could have been left by anyone,
It's a poorly scribed, indistinct signature to leave upon the earth,
Easily erased by the next surging tide.
Others will walk this glistening shoreline,
Never knowing I was here.
A timeless sea stretches before me,
And I am dwarfed by its vastness.
I search for answers in the boiling surf,
Envious of the waves for their travels,
Covetous of their freedom to wander.
The crashing surf whispers on the wind…
and urges me to press on, press on.
The wind presses my collar against my cheek,
Chiding me gently.
My place is not here…watching, waiting.
I ached for the peace of this quiet anchorage,
Now I long for the excitement of contests against the wind and spray.
I miss the crack of filling sails, the teamwork,
The lines taut as bowstrings with the morning breeze,
The spinnaker billowing as we run downwind.
When I was exhausted, I prayed for rest.
Now I am rested, and I know I must move on.
I've learned respect for the elements,
By pitting myself against them.
My strength was drained in the effort,
But the prize is worth the contest.
A tempest rages beyond that tranquil horizon
While I languish in this sheltered harbor.
Patience! I must be patient.
Other seas and other storms are mine,
And I will sail again.
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