Today I received a letter, from a man I once believed to be dead. A man who was surely drifting on a pickled sea. Who I had wrapped in cotton sails and sunk into a black, black bay. Who's face I watched disappear underneath cloudy water and the ripple of wake. A man I never got to tell Good bye. 1
This letter as stained and tattered as it was is a precious treasure. I might even dare to call it a pearl. It wore a few days work.. morning coffee and maybe bait.. I wonder what he was fishing, and if his boat flew the flags of each victory over a marlin or if its decks were adorned with rusty pots. I know only one truth the man from Tangier island was back on the Shore. 2
I thought of him, the smell of him on open water and Cornish cusses under his breath. He was born with sea legs. He belonged to her, the ocean. I have learned that now, he never was mine. His letter was urgent as if he couldn't hold these words in any longer. It was as if August had awaken him.Made him remember when we would meet , when both of our bounty was heavy. The crops and the catch.. 3
And we would spend humid night scaling fish and grilling corn. Dancing in topsiders on wet weathered decks. Children of Earth and Sea , the congruence ... We reflected perfectly in each others eyes. We labored toward something we could never understand.. the need to find ourselves in our professions. The fishermen and the farmer. 4
It was post marked "Eastern Shore" Its funny how we always come back home. Virginia is a land of salt washed people... Vinegared and scrubbed. He always said I was the safety of shore that anchored his soul.. I just never realized he was the restless tide that rose and fell in mine. 5
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thank you for sharing I most certainly enjoy the piece.
You could certainly turn it into a book I would dare say.
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Another good read.
Can hardly wait for your next journal entry.
Tom -
gosh could you go on, I could read forever, your talent exceeds all else, its perfect!
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Powerful, potent and such and exceptionally strange piece simply because it is true! Again a most powerful and compelling write! I loved it!
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Words, no words could be spoken for perfection is something to behold!
Let this magical pen flow for when you will once again walk those weathered decks and till the land till it gives a full bounty of corn, then perhaps love shall be born.
I see the shore, my anchor does not reach the scraggly bottom that I might yet be tethered within eyesight of that which never shall be mine, nor to taste, nor to kiss, never to hold.
I like it, I like it so! -
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