The voyage of my far-away friend

For TJ.  

My far-away friend sits in port,

the sails of his ship battered

from storms and sun,

listening to the stories

of the timid locals

and pompous magistrates,

drinking the house wine,

and eating the bean pie

of the melancholy fishwive

with a smile and a wink

of gratitude.

A merchant says that the ship is lost,

that the mast and riggings

will never again drag

my far-away friend's ship

onto the open waves,

that he is stuck in port

to lead a small life

among small lives.

Such news fills

the dock workers

with immense gratitude.

But my far-away friend

has sailed too far

and seen too much

to believe idle speculations,

In the morning,

he casts off,

light breezes teasing

his boat away from land.

His journey will be longer

with such tattered sails,

but his hand never leaves

the old iron rudder,

and the song of the sea

and of life full lived

never leaves his heart.

On he sails,

while timid souls

lament he left

and his far-away companions

rejoice at his voyage

out into tomorrow.

R. R. Shea