Upon the Wharves of Sorrow
Darkness in a world awash.
A drunkard with a rum flask would walk a straighter line.
Of what use sails in shreds around masts and lines?
A beacon in a flash, portside. Then another.
The gale will have us. Beacon now to starboard, close.
Timbers yield to rock in a crash to rival thunder.
Bodies crushed, on the crest of a wave.
Remnants lit by a passing light.
This is my response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats: Day Fifteen (each day a new Yeats quote).
“You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing”
Image source: wikimedia.org (Ships in a Storm on a Rocky Coast – Jan Porcellis)