It is a short walk to the end of the jetty,
a careful walk,
with the stones not quite level, not quite
with the remains and refuse of squalid seagulls,
broken shells and droppings.
But for all that, the walk is short.
Make it and you stand at the end of the world,
surrounded by sea and sky and wind.
A single step in any direction save one,
and you are a creature of the sea.
lost to tides and currents,
Eventually ending on some far away beach,
driftwood, dried and sunbleached.
A man can only swim so far.
You made that journey once,
a misstep born of blindness and then,
a long season in the sea,
a finless fish, without direction or strength,
yours or anyone else’s,
carried far, left in a strange land
with a newborn’s arms to pull you from the sea,
that strangest of things,
You stand at the end of the jetty
You offer a prayer to your God,
thankful for being alive,
yes, only that,
here at the end of the world.
A man can only swim so far
About this poem.
The picture was taken at Hampton Beach, NH.