Such a small boat
to set sail in, so far
across the world,
such a small cargo
of faith and hope
and not much else

and the white petals
drift like sea-foam

and such a small boat
leaving a small town,
the water shimmering
beneath the bow
and not much defence
against storms
except that small cargo
heavy with hope
weighted with faith

and the sea foam
drifting like white petals

and all the while
gazing for the horizon
and someone vomiting
and always the sound
of someone praying
and the sound of a child
sobbing, and the call
of the sea-birds
and the stink of the hold
and the salt pork
and the cracked skin
on your hands,
held up always
in supplication

and the sea foam
and the white petals

and the homecoming

Lillian is hosting at dVerse tonight, interrupting her holiday to tend the bar. She’s in…