I take a ferry
From the big smoke
To a small Island
Then back again
Landing on an Island
Is always like
The quiet moment alone
In the living room
Just as the fridge turns off
Landing on an Island
Is always like
The quiet moment alone
In the living room
Just as the fridge turns off
In torrents
Of mud
And rock
And trees
Wiping away bridges
Wiping away people
The road broke down
So access broke down
Some with regret
And, some, disdain
Though most with neither
This nor that
I think not
Of the world I’m in
The present
Not this very day
But all the worlds
I’ve yet to see
Which will also
Fall behind
A land made
Of strife
And loss
And longing
Chipped rugged
With malice
And petulance
The sky
Whispered menace
And even a calm sea
Cut rough on the keel
Like sun-baked leather
Beyond the straight
A farther shore
Receding
In the mist
Once
Abandoned
Derelict
Unprofitable
Now
Then I turn forward
Take the next step
With a clearer vision
Of the trials and adventures
The path ahead promises
The world settles into an armchair
At the end of a long day
Breathes a sigh
Takes a long draw from the wineglass
And lets the worries drift away
No more forward looking
No more anticipation
But for the threshold
And my own bed