A Thousand Lives


He shows me a photograph of his father sat on a boat.
A mess of net piled on the bow, a morning sun spilled into sea.

“Each life carries the next, like an infinite lift of waves, generation
to generation,” he said. “Even if it means to carry a coffin of bricks.”

I saw his figure later in the day, stood at the highland edge,
his arms held out wide to the spread of blue expanse before him.

And that night, I woke to waves, their hush on shingle,
to winds running through alleys, homes, cathedrals.

A chorus of a thousand lives, sea shanties from children,
husbands, wives, forever carried on a gentle tide.

Photograph taken in Port Isaac, Cornwall, UK.


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