At times, old insecurities come to the fore, hand in hand with wistful memories of past lovers, loss, death and grief. At other times, I have bitter quarrels with God late into the night about sin, redemption and child-death; and when solace will not come, in despair, I run for shelter to life's true confessional—poetry.
Saturday, 11 September 2021
Sailing - a poem by Chris Zachariou
sailing to the edge -
photo by Dorsal_fFn on flickr
We sail
our boat to the edge with
its hull full of words and its
mast made of dreams.
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