Benjamin Posted July 13, 2011 Share Posted July 13, 2011 (edited) The seaman's bethel rang a ghostly knell. An awful sound of truth, from fishing days. When people filled it's pews and said their prayers, found comfort in the hymns they knew so well. I passed the lychgate and the narthex by, anonymous, to those stood at the door. And absent for these forty years or more, my shadowed form held not a single eye. For I was stranded: on a foreign shore, with no return to those I'd left behind. And though I prayed by that black water side, someone-- to greet me on this homeward tide. Their souls had flown, like gulls in mist of time, To vanish with the sun for ever more. Edited July 14, 2011 by Benjamin Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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