boats moored out of harbor

Spring’s lingering light prompted a stroll down to the marina port where yachts and cruise boats were neatly parked, the mighty fishing boats puttering past, as the sun touched the horizon.

Outside the sea-wall of boulders and concrete cubes, a few lonely yachts were also moored.  Those vessels reminded me of something, struck something deep inside, something I’m living or attempting.  Moored outside, near the open sea, longing to venture forth.

Overlooking the marina-bound vessels, comments overheard—admiration of the big, the professional, the superbly crafted, most are dearly parked yearlong to only embark a few times over summer.  Yet I was drawn to those made of wood, creaky, with character, strength overlooked.

Across the port, a few boats were lifted up, temporarily out of the sea, for repair, barnacle removal.

I’m heading into port for a brief moment, guided by your words, drawing near because you are here.  Here I find you, comforted to hear your welcome, resting seaside with you is my repair.

We talk of friends far away, family across oceans.  We remember fish hauls, storms, the navigating and the wandering.

Soon I will head back out to sea, but my mind and heart are refreshed, grasping something more of horizonless beauty beyond, an unfathomable purpose amidst life moments of pain, loneliness, fear.

by Jonathan McCallum
Poetry Blog