• A poem by Kathryn Jones

    The wedding ship sails into the sunset.

    Pink ripples meet the horizon.
    As the hull parts the water like a knife through soft butter. The gentle breeze flapping the flags.
    The rolling of the boat, soothing.
    Not a cloud in sight.
    Not a hint of unrest.

    So the journey continues.
    Slight rises in the swell roll the ship. Side to side.
    Back and forth.
    Slightly unsettling.
    But it passes.

    Then some clouds cut across the sun’s rays. Darkening the voyage.
    And they pass.

    The sun is shining.
    The sea like a mirror, reflecting it’s brightness. It is again blissful.
    Swells and darkness forgotten.

    Just a dream.

    But it is not.

    The swells grow.
    The clouds grow darker. The calms less frequent.
    Now the storm is really brewing. There is thunder.
    Plenty of thunder.
    Thunder all around.
    Louder. And passes.

    Again there is calm, but it is broken by uncertainty. The sun rays now burn, not glisten.

    There is a sickening feeling in the air.

    It doesn’t last.

    The thunder roars again.
    Now the lightening precedes it with force.
    The ship thrashes against the waves.
    Crashing back and forth.
    Sails flapping frantically against the gale force winds.

    The sea is angry.
    Peeking waves coming from all directions.
    No rest between assaults against the ship’s bow. No warning from which direction.

    The ship powerless to the onslaught.

    Just as quickly as it came.
    The storm disappears.
    The sky opens.
    The clouds parting to let the sun sparkle through.

    The ship still. Disshevelled. Wrecked.
    The sea gently massages it’s hull. The sun caresses the deck. Promises anew.
    Possibly hope.

    But the hull creaks under the pressure of the damage. The sail flaps, torn and ragged.

    The ship rolls on the sea in anticipation.

    The anchor dragging in the sand below.
    As if pleading with the vessel to sail to safer waters.

    Night falls.

    A new day begins. Night falls again.

    Calm and rest. False hope rising.

    It started with a hint of rain. A few speck hit the deck.
    The swell rises.
    Dark clouds rush the sky.
    Winds wail through the riggings.

    Not again.

    The thrashing against the vicious waves.
    The bombardment of water across the deck.
    The bouncing from one wave crest to another, then crashing down again.

    It is too much.
    The hull begins to crack.
    The water swallows the ship. Sending it to the depths of the sea.

    Just as the ship was not responsible for the weather, you are not responsible for their behaviour. You can however listen to the anchor and sail to calmer waters.

    Wassalamu Alaikum,


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