Tacking
For
Shore,
The
Water
Choppy,
The
Wind
A
Muted
Roar,
The
Craft
Unsteady.
I’m
Not
Ready
To
Meet
My
End
And
Fend
Off
The
Wave
That
Reaches
Hands
From
The
Grave,
Hold
Firm
The
Sail
To
Keep
Myself
Afloat,
Though
I am
Frail.
The
Sea
Has
Might
And
I face
A
Dark
Night,
Say
A
Sailor’s
Prayer,
A
Litany
For
Those
Who
Roam,
And
Hope
To
Make
It
Home.