Voyage

My teeth are tight in their gums.
Knuckles white, sweeping crumbs
Of what's left, just doubt and fear.
Pray the compass will appear.

Dizzy circus of a map
Spinning changes in the gaps.
Hope is shaking in my lap.
On this ledge, no looking back,

Or down.
Unravelled, unwound.
Instead, look out.
Open view all about.

Future waits to take my hand
Away from Broken Promise Land.
At least there’s something yet to seize.
Here lies nothing

Left to squeeze.
On my knees, begging
For safe passage
And mindful ease.

Faith has found a silky thread,
Thrown out to catch thoughts in my head.
Though light is dim out on the bow,
Flickering words I ponder now.

A lighthouse beam for gotten sailors,
A searing wand for drifting wailers.
This castaway is reaching too,
Pushing through the foggy view.


9/5/21