Narrowing to the Sky

I was sixteen when I first climbed the rigging of a true tall ship.
The only fool among the tourists to volunteer.
The frigate, for that is what it was, leaned to one side
and I was sent up the top side,

What I remember is the flapping.
Ropes flapping. Sails flapping on the edges.
Noise and action and nothing felt solid
beneath my feet. But I was young and foolish

and intent on reaching the tip of the sky,
Gazing up as I climbed, watching the rigging
and the sails narrow, the higher I went.
I was not afraid until I reached the pinnacle

and remembered I had to travel down.
that rising was only half the journey
and it was a long way down
hard decks and rough machinery below.

And me, exhausted from my success, my journey
to a place I could not remain
with the real danger in the coming home
to solid ground.

About this poem

About an episode in my life when I was young. About similar episodes that did not involve ships, but still had rises and falls, and the danger of falls. Of adrenaline spent, and the work living past the dream and finding room for another.

The photograph is from the USS Constitution. My adventure was with the USCGC (Coast Guard Cutter) Eagle. They would never let a boy visitor do that today. Sometimes it is good to be old and having experienced what is not allowed today in the name of risk.

Written in honor of a member of one of my churches, roughly my age, and with a never-ending sense of Adventure.

Be well. Travel wisely.

Tom