Life has been pretty rough for me as of late. I’ve been through the wringer, and I’m just trying to keep my shit together long enough to grow as a person. Thank God for poetry, even if this poetry isn’t any good.
Law of Salvage
And as much as I’d like a whispered life in the woods, I know I’m meant for an ocean full of hurricanes. A twisted, unavoidable destiny. It’s a heavy task to captain a ship–I’m not there anymore, sent overboard and lost at sea. No, I was
by a mutinous crew mate, and now I’m swimming out into deep water, ignoring tentacles that tease my toes and hoping to be pulled from down under, given a ration of bread and rum, even some shelter as I relearn the ropes
while suffering from scurvy. Indomitable, I swab the deck, hoist the mainsail, set our course, and prepare for promotion: a distinguished sailor. I don epaulets, step down proud from the quarterdeck, my eye to the graying horizon, ready for a squall.
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