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POETRY: Pilgrimage
Photo Credit: ©Christine Matthäi We leave all sins behind in the pilgrimage. We know it's not our land anymore. We cross a sea of dangers:
storms of unkindness and conflict, thirsts of unquenchable days, starvings of empty horizons. Missing things, missing things we don't understand.
We stare at the surface of our sea -- our survival reddens there, the wave-lap turns to water.
It is water that we need, the wave we fear; and the lime of tender lips on the steady deck, we need.
Keep watch -- there is no turning back; we've sailed straight out for weeks, thrown ourselves into the blue arms of a kindly stranger.
Our unbelief will crash on the rocks, our lack of faith will drown in foamy chaos, our hopelessness will starve, and we will walk the shore as we have left. Bradley Morewood, Contributor I was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY (with the exception of a few years during which I lived near Cocoa, Florida) and now reside in Tampa, Florida. I studied music, psychology and political science at Brooklyn College, and completed my college studies at Eckerd College, receiving a BA in political science in 1977. I then went to Stetson Law School and graduated in 1980. I enjoy composing music, traveling and writing poetry. » View all articles by Bradley Morewood  Bradley Morewood |
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Connecting People, Places, and Ideas: Story by Story
May 2013
Comments
What a lovely poem unlike any other I'd ever read: the lime of tender lips, our survival reddens there. Great use of verbs and so optimistic!
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