Sunday, November 21, 2010

cut the anchor, oh Lord, I feel the swell
compel me forward, a great wave
of humble beginnings. I know
I shall not walk this shore again,
not in the daylight clasping slender hands
nor at evening, when we gazed high and low
to the gentle stars setting, rising, spinning--
swept of their own volition, here I have laid
moored for seasons to a firm dock
and stone paths where feet have come and gone.
I once sat upon the shoreline and watched
ships of all sizes, full of children
drift back and forth to the horizon, and wondered
how far and long, and how cold that sea
and where the lands that only others see,
our sails are waiting for an errant breeze
and here it is, at dawn, mercilessly
playing with the flap and fold. cast the rope
my pilot, compass, ocean's guide and captain's cloak;
I know the shore, and I greet the endless waves.


Tim Shey said...

This is a beautiful poem. It reminds me of a quote by William Shedd:

"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."

Kaz said...

Hi, I read this over at meanderings... Andie's blog.
I love this... speaks of something good to come :O)

Tim Shey said...

Thank you for your comments on my blog. For some reason I can't put any comments on my blog. I think there are a few glitches in this computer that I am using.

I am staying at a friend's place here in western Wyoming; we are in the middle of a snowstorm right now. I might be here for several days. My friends are up in Montana for a Thanksgiving vacation, so I am able to catch up on some reading and writing. I might not be able to drive to the local library and use their internet.

It's kind of nice to be off the road and out of the winter weather. Thanks again for your comments.

Tim Shey said...

"I know I shall not walk this shore again." You are going to take a step of faith to someplace or something new.

"I know the shore." I know the shore with my physical eyes.

"And I greet the endless waves." Now I will go in faith and take a risk and follow the Lord wherever He takes me--I will use my spiritual eyes.

This reminds me of my Irish ancestors when they left Ireland in the mid 1800s. They got on a boat and went to a strange new land called America. I heard that my great grandmother cried everynight after she left Ireland because she was so homesick. When her firstborn came into the world, she stopped crying.

New birth. Newborn. New life. New wineskins for new wine.

New teeth, new taste, new eyes, new everything (a play on Shakespeare's: "Sans teeth, sans taste, sans eyes, sans everything").

This is a very, very beautiful poem. Theresa, you are a beautiful creation.

Tim Shey said...

I was able to drive to the library this morning and check my email and the stats on my blog. Today is Friday; on Monday I posted your poem "Cut the Anchor, Oh Lord" on my blog. Your poem has gotten a lot of pageviews in such a short time. I think "Cut the Anchor, Oh Lord" has broken the record for pageviews (for the first four days) in the history of my blog. I am happy that people are reading your poetry.

("in the history of my blog"--I thought that was kinda funny)