Poem: The Making of Sails


The Making of Sails

It is hard work, sail making.
Done in a dark room,
the only light through doors and windows.
Second-hand brightness with no horizons,
heavy cloth cut and draped to ancient patterns,
reinforced and grommeted,
every stitch vital but mind numbing
in its repetitiveness,
Bound to shellacked spars,
drudge work, but vital
to the journey, vital
to free the land-locked soul, vital
to the flying of soul and imagination,
set free
by the work.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s