As I am a ship, long held out at sea,
sails aloft, bellied out and taut,
bow rising to the sun and bowing to the deep –
as I am that ship, wide-bellied and low,
decks low down to water, I move slowly
to my port, long past due home,
last of the fleet and surest.
You hold me both back and steady,
both my ballast and my cargo.
Your weight holds me down, secure in the sea and slow.
This impatient calm at sea will bring content
only when I, with my cargo, reach home.
You are what keeps me from my port
and the reason I set sail.
David Milley
