We row backwards
it's hard to aim
I wrote this poem in 2005 and gave it to Katie. If you’re clever you’ll see what’s what and where who is. Audio at the end.
Sometimes I struggle to come up with a corresponding image for a post. Yes, this is a whip. I believe it is a riding crop whip. It was given to me while when I was in charge of a customer service department. The word ‘whips’ is in the poem below. So there you go.
Subtle breezes wax the trees Tops sway in a slow underwater dance Like seaweed beneath my boat Leaning over the side, feet over the other Head peering down, I see my own face And the sky and clouds behind me Through my reflection I see a whole world Unknown to me. Depths upon depths of life And action that cares not of me. Oh, I sigh. A deep sigh full of meaning It doesn’t even ripple the water. Where is my world? Where is my depth? Bending my back to oars, Legs off the side of the boat hops The boat across the water. Destination? A moment ago I saw an opening. A tiny bay. Thought I might head that way. Look for my pasture. My world. Strokes and strokes, but unbeknownst to me My back is crooked or the water pulls And the tiny bay is gone when I get where it should be. I stop. I look. A little frustration creeps in me But then I see another bay. I spot and aim. Turn my back and row. Back straining. More strokes, but once again it is as a mirage Or I cannot trust my aim. There is nothing. This bay is gone. Completely. I am left to row blindly and I do Until my back is burned with the rays of the sun, The beams of the moon. I find no bay. One more search of the horizon A distant mask of blues and greens No definition, no hope. Frustration racks my body like flu I shudder and vomit over the side. Seagulls follow my tiny boat. They feast on my despair and I feel Their fluttering wings like whips. I am lost. I lay back and pray they shit on me. Somewhere, sometime I sleep. I know no hope. The sun and moon rise and fall Their giant tug of war is beyond my senses. In their battle my tiny boat rocks. The tide. Wanders in and out of bays My eyes shut in pain. There is no hope. One day a bit of rain hits my nose A tickle and yes, a hopeless smile opens my eyes I see trees above me. The rib-bit of frogs Time has escaped it seems. For this paradise is nowhere, Not even in my dreams. Smile and hope and Oh, I sigh I reach over the side My hand imprints in soft sand.