Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Flotsam and Jetsam


If my body was a pirate ship

-- no, that's not right. 

If my body was a cruise ship

- no, definitely not that.

 If my body was a sailboat

- yes, that's it, that's exactly right.

 

If my body was a sailboat

on the high seas

you would notice behind me

floating behind me

a trail of detritus

a trail of old cargo

the flotsam and jetsam

of a hard won life.

 

If my body was a sailboat

on the high seas

you would notice a woman

on the starboard bow 

in a white floppy hat

and a bright yellow sundress

slowly, lovingly and

thoughtfully tossing

the jetsam of the

old life overboard -

the wee pinch of flesh of the

unnecessary arguments,

the soft belly roll of

cutting remarks,

the handful of hip from

his wish to be mean,

the loose thighs,

I admit,

from too many chocolate chip

cookies. 

 

If my body was a sailboat

you would notice behind me

a trail of flotsam

a trail of old cargo

ejected by simply

surviving the last 

storm –

the rocking and rolling

that tossed me around

the rocking and rolling that 

cast me out to sea -

the embarrassing self-pity

the fear of not-good-enough

the deep grief and sadness of

bone-deep

loss.

 

If my body was a sailboat

on the high seas

you would notice behind me

flotsam and jetsam

floating on the water

dissolving into the water

the warm salty water

of the deep blue sea.

And if my body was a sailboat

you would see a fine sailboat

battered and scarred but

very seaworthy

now sailing to the sunset

deep into the sunset

with far less cargo -

useless and weighty and

unwanted cargo -

carrying only what is treasure

carrying only what is true

carrying only who I am

and who I may one day become.


June 16, 2009


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