The Wooden Ship


The wooden ship

is today an artifact and

in itself a floating museum,

bare-masted main and fore,

tied down in safe harbor.

Years ago, we took our children

to its legendary landing site

and talked about the dangerous and

perhaps dubious

adventure of faith so many

had endured in their quest for

a new world. I suppose at

some point in the conversation

I might have said something

like and that is the way this

life is to be lived, to which

my progeny would have

nodded in reverence, not

for my words but for the

daunting challenge that lay

ahead of each of them. If I

could take them back to the

wooden ship today, I might

have them look carefully

at the hull of the vessel, or

perhaps descend into its

darkened cavity and sit for a

moment, to sense its

connection with the

vast expanse it teeters upon.

In some subtle manner, I

might ask, do you feel that?

to which they would resonate,

for already I have seen

them plum the depths of

mystery in each his and her way.

And I suppose they might

one day bring their children

to see the wooden ship, to

ask the questions, and to say

and that is how this life is

to be lived.

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