Sunday, November 18, 2012

Ocean Drum

My home is Nova Scotia,
its ocean a drum,
but I’m far from the harbour -
forty years by thumb

I left as a boy
with world-beating dreams

Found a city with all
and nothing it seems

Sometimes it was hungry

Sometimes it was beat

Built a web of drifters
who I could mislead

They tossed me free
when I lifted the mask

I’ll be embraced soon
if my time outlasts
this journey I’m on

If I die on the way
see cold waves rock
my body and sway

See the sun glisten
off lifeless white skin

My home is Nova Scotia

Let it sink in

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You will die journeying but let it be awhile off yet. At the same time you are embraced a'ready, you have a home, where you haven't worn out your welcome. *shrug* that is one satisfaction of building a reason to stay a few meters from the cliffs edge.
Chris your place and relationship with self evident as your journeying far away your feelings of being ready to be embraced by the cold sea you remember at the end of your journey. A thoughtful poem which stands being re-read again and again.
TWM: Indeed indeed. There's a beach plot with my name on it, when the time comes.

Cuby: Thank you very much.
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