Saturday, December 14, 2013
The old sailor secured lines and anchor
of the wooden boat built with his own hands
He had honed his skills at his father's side,
learned to speak an uncommon language
Cold salt water penetrated his face as
he trudged up the hill in the mud,
deliberately and walked to the temple
by the sea's edge.
Home safe from the sea on prayers and amens
from villagers and families,
the fishermen, drenched and exhausted,
entered the building to light candles.
In remembrance they lit them one by one -
for those who met their deep fate
in shipwrecks long before, in mightier boats than his
Hundreds lit candles that night before him;
as he put his next on the alter,
he knelt on his knees, bowed his head
A choir sang 'Hallelujah'
Purposely he made the long walk home
His house was built in a glen of yew trees,
by a carpenter who once roamed the
countryside, a man who quietly suffered
great anguish and taught him how to fish
He remembers how many men gathered
for dinner when his father spoke; people
came from everywhere to hear him
He remembered his mother's tears,
hidden behind her cloak
Putting the boy on his knee his father
had told him how to live -
"...feeding souls is my purpose in life and
fishing is your trade...I am the net for
all men's safety in their struggles in life -
you are the seed from which faith will grow."
He had looked deep into his father's eyes,
saw his own bright light of being reflected
therein. The man replied "Always be grateful,
faithful and kind; you will fill my heart with joy"
And then he said, "and remember how we played -
you are my one and only boy"
This is the last prompt for writers over at dversepoets.com - and Mary kindly asks us to make an offering of a poem of candles, light or any form of illumination that has to do with commemorating the season in any way..