The Vague Smell of Fish

Mine is not a graceful craft, all ship shape
and ready for my photo opportunity.
My decks are messy, the result of too many years
of the foul stuff of life and work.
There is the vague smell of fish and other dead things
that have passed through my life and left me
scrubbing the decks. But that work is only skin deep.
The things that have soaked into your soul
don’t wash out.
No, I am not graceful, but I am real enough,
and strong enough for the next journey,
the survivor of storms, rust, barnacles and all.

About this poem.

Earlier today I had someone tell me that she could not understand why she was still here. I get it. A poem, whether it seems like it or not, of wonderment.

The picture was taken at Provincetown, MA.

Tom