Scared of Swimming

Titus leaned in and laughed at what he’d seen,
the tyrannies of greed and the speed of change,
the hunger mongers’ conspicuous cravings,
the relentless reports of rain.

The elders hoarded guns and rations.
In the streets,
boats were built on sleepers.
In the streets,
there were hushed moonlit departures.

And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed.

The desert’s growing up North,
passed hapless Spanish irrigations,
the old ice flushing us,
cold, and clearly
there were these, and there were these
continuous orchestrated quietenings,
the stilling of a still yet raging nation.
There was gun metal terrors,
there was mass observations.
there were pills proving only too bitter
For those who could whisper,
‘no surrender.’

And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed.


So we started sending letters
about how seeing the new sea
told us whole old stories,
sung the children up,
told them where we stood
and where we’d been.
Here!
Giving thanks to the stars for speaking to us,
they told us we were not alone.
And we remember
the grief in the leaving,
And we remember
the deceiving we could not take anymore.
Our hearts the only mooring that we found,
since we slipped our leftover hills
To each other, to each other

And we sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed.

We remembered each other,
We remembered each other.