Poem: Hardware and the Softness of Souls

Hardware and the Softness of Souls

In a corner of the shipyard, you see them,
stacks of old wooden pulleys, ancient hardware,
parts and piece,of sailing ships,
the likes of which they do not make today,
no longer efficient enough to suit the culture,
replaced, tossed aside, in time lost to speed,

lost with the rest of it. The wonder.
The oneness with the sea and wind,
the struggle and the languid days of soft wind
and peaceful souls.

About this poem

I grew up around boats. Most years my father would pick up a wrecked boat of some sort. We’d work on it all winter and spring, then use it a summer or two, sell it in the fall, and find another wreck to restore.

Motorboats. Sailboats. We worked on all of them. But I prefered the sailboats. Always did. Always will. That connection with the water and wind is magical.

The picture was taken at Mystic Seaport in CT. It is a restored 19th century seaport town, complete with boatyards.


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