VOYAGE

Feet clang on the rock,

Clunk on the soils:

The Waste Land.

Star guides,

Lightly crystalline,

To the waterside.

Escape! Escape!

Sound the waves:

Sound the heartbeats.

Feet tread the boards:

The ship of faith;

The ship of fools.

Who held my hand, boarding?

Mercy to the left;

Grace to the right.

What would have held me?

Satan’s tentacles, without me;

Lusts and fears: parasites.

The Morning Star guides,

Lightens,

Attracts the eye.

We launch towards it.

The rowers keep pace,

Mercy and grace.

Hope at the prow

Watching and calling

Hosannahs and warnings.

But O the misadventures –

Rock and tides – as I

Was a skill-less helmsman.

Who would deliver me?

My eyes must fix on the star;

My hand be fixed by the Pilot.

But what wrestling, what

Arm-wrestling; till my arm,

Under the Pilot’s hand, rests.

The river splays:

Salt tangs the spume;

We plunge through surf.

Onward, onward

Guided by the high Star,

By the chart, by the Pilot.

Towards Colosse,

There to freight the boat

With bright nuggets.

Towards Corinth

There to take on

Firm building material.

Towards Ephesus,

There to gain a lading

Of precious stones.

And at Philippi – true,

Noble, just, pure, amiable gems,

Of good report.

Port by port, all

My crew’s fervour ditching

Useless ballast.

Forward, forward

Till the Sun breaks upon

The desired haven!

“Let them give thanks unto Jehovah

For his loving-kindness

And for his wondrous works

To the children of men.”