Standing still watching ships sailing in high tide jogs my
memory on how a little girl used to make paper boats and fake waves to test its
survival. Fancying those thrills life happened and the boat became ‘she’
herself. Inside the boat there are people restful doing their piece of work.
One pumps dreams, the other drives them. They fall, they strive, they fight and
stand, yet the boat stays firmly dedicated betwixt all roughs and tumbles.
Sounds of back stream hitting the shaft and ship whistles
fading in the blue like dims of ice cream and school bells in the ears… How can
she not miss her dockyard? She is sailing from ports to harbors but that’s not
the destination – the place she’s come from. The flashbacks wind-up at her on
how she got assembled with grains of love, struggles and mettle. Ships were
made with hands back then; away from disruptions rousing the loss of personal
touch now.
As they rightly say- A smooth sea never made skillful sailors!
The ship doesn’t wait to go in water, yet it waits for the stream to trigger
its float. And we wait for challenges to set off our competencies.
To reach my ultimate port I will sail, I will sail on in this middle passage, through winds and darkness. I will do my best to keep my boat steady and my sails
full.
beautifully written!
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