the boats had gathered over onescreaming ink spill of red
you could feel the tension as if
you too were perched on the helm of a little tottering craft
peering down into the big what of a journey
the air smelled like kelp and wood
you could almost imagine the rocking
and if you leaned into the wind
your destiny would all be presented in that red
it went deep as blood and you could swear it whispered something.
then there was a shout and the boats moved on
stopping at one mystery was not enough for this voyage
the boats would rest when each foot touched land
where hungry children and broken people could rest.
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