A Different Kind of Archeology
Look beyond the bones,
beyond the ribs half rotted and broken,
Past the paint long stripped by age and storms.
Look. Carefully. Slowly.
Hear the story of journies and adventures,
of battles fought, Battles won
Pretend for a moment, you are an archeologist,
a seeker of truth amidst the ruins,
not judge and jury, something else,
a builder of the broken,
more concerned with what remains
than what has been lost,
understanding that anything can be resurrected
by those who love and are determined,
resurrected perhaps, not to the original state,
but to something new and powerful,
stronger for the breaking,
and twice as precious.
About this poem.
About boats. About people. Especially about people .
The picture was taken at Mystic Seaport, CT