Across The Sea Poem by Leonard Brooks

he gave me the tiller, gave me the keel
to push the boat out, feel
the water underneath and face
the gale smile at the horizon
the rising sun become who
you be the stays, the spars
the dreadful wet rope wet nets
not to be forgotten nor turned
to barnacles of hope learn to bear
the beam with a sharp eye
on the line for the clean, clear
current below
wind on wind mind your own business
see your ocean, hear
the witness
whisper through rain
and hail
the mail sent, not the letter
yes, the mail, again
sends news
of your ports and peers, again
your ports and peers over years and y'ears
years and y'ears