The Comfort of Water

This Monday starts the beginning of a short work week for most of us, but not so short that we can forego the comfort of the Poem of the Week. Here it is, transporting us to the Algarve, and another chance to take you far away from the humdrum of your daily schedule. Be well, stay safe!

the comfort of water

in Portugal, near Sagres,

the earth pokes a naked finger

of stone into the Atlantic,

a natural pier two hundred feet

above the gnashing surf.

patient fishermen drop their lines

two hundred feet into the surging water

and wait for dinner to make its fatal error.

I am told a few fisherman disappear yearly.

I scramble across moonscape rock

to the end of the land.

far below, the sea strains

against the stone walls

like a besieging army.

my passport and papers are in my pocket.

no one knows my name for five hundred miles.

the sea spreads arms of spray, beseeching.

the salt breath whispers –

come to me,

I am also patient and hungry.

p. ferenczi

This entry was posted in Loneliness, Poetry, Thoughts & Musings, Travel and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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