I Was A Sailor

I was a sailor
when I met the Fisherman,
my shadow until then
had not been darkened
passing through a nave
to where the candles
ever burn.

Unthankful,
I had worn the tattered cloak
of proud entitledment,
even though, as now,
I sought for poems
everywhere.

How my sails like wings pursued
the retreating horizon!

Mainsail and jib,
my exaggerated shadow,
barely perceptible,
projected upon them.

But my thoughts circled
with all my generation,
and we landed where
we had begun
on tiny Destitution Island.

But Love came trolling,
in his slow boat,
one day, ever trolling,
and rescued me,
a refugee,
His ancient craft filling,
ever filling,
with ever  room
for only one more.

And so you find me here
as an old friend,
leaning at peace,
beside your answered door.