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Shipwrecked


It used to be simple:
shipwrecked, you turned the boat over
and started from scratch,

your new home the nave
of a church, its prow pointing back
over the ocean

towards your previous life.
You lived with the loss,
did what you could, carried on.

You learned from mistakes,
your foolish belief
in the big talk of others;

you built things from bits
and from bones, what the sea offered up.
Now you're convinced

every sail is your saviour,
every noise is a plane
crossing the vastness of ocean

over and back, all these years later
still searching for you, the sole
survivor, waiting to tell them precisely

where it all went so wrong.


Pat Boran

The Next Life
Dedalus Press


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