Christopher Howell
The Gospel of Small Boats
From so far out to sea
the lights of land are dim stars
an immense bird is trying to carry away.
There’ll be the Devil’s own time
rigging a sail now, Jesus says,
might as well walk.
I hear him say this every day
and every day the land is farther off,
in the hazy impermanence of miracles.
Eventually every petal
of the compass rose declares
that sea is nothing
but the world
and the dream of land
our unsteadily marvelous boat.
Copyright
© by Christopher Howell 2007. All rights reserved.
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