Look To The Harbor

I sat on the rocks

By the New Bedford docks

And waited for his boat to return

 

But the sun went to hiding

Bringing ever bad tidings

And a sea where last lessons are learned

 

My time spent in vain

For not even a plane

Could find a boat headed out of that storm

 

As the sea roiled upward

My hopes were dragged under

Which my soul was to curse and then scorn

 

And the streets emptied out

Churches packed and devout

As the old ones did swear and rebuke

 

The women all cried

With new legends reprised

As the Parson read words in tribute

 

Till at the church by the dock

From whence he had left

From its window I yelled through the tears…

 

“Look to the harbor this night,

  the mourning over, I sight: 

     —My Daddy’s Gaff Schooner is here”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

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