Homecoming

Homecoming

 

Three sharp prows turn toward the sun

Dancing in the waves, the dolphin play

Wild clouds run before the wind

Rigging whines with joy

Foam boils from a triple wake

Land is fading into grey.

 

Blind to the hearth-fires burning bright

In the eyes of wives or lovers

Deaf to their cries and tears in the night

The sea is calling fierce and true

Day is breaking without care.

 

Years are gone, smoothed like stones

Ground beneath the ice

When heroes come, home to ash

Cold as a winter moon

Their eyes are dead

Hands and faces dark with distance

Keels have kissed the beach at last.

 

Where have the wives and lovers passed

With rounded limbs and joyful laughter

No echoes ring through the ancient house

Blackened beams and crippled walls

Mice nest where once the people danced

No more, a fiddle’s wild enchanted singing

Crows toss in a fretful wind or

Strut upon the broken tiles.

 

Three sharp prows turn toward the sun

Where dancing dolphin play and wild clouds run

Rigging whines with joy, foam boils up once more

The sea is calling fierce and true

Day is breaking without care.

 

 

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About mikeinkwazi

I am in my seventies and live in the west coast of Scotland, with the sea at the bottom of my garden. I have been variously, a sculptor an art teacher, designer, inventor, organic grower and last but never least, a blue water sailor. By the way, I have been telling stories and writing nonsense all my life!

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