A Boatman's Plea

The endless river and the little infinitesimal waves strewed across,

waves that caress the boat one after the other,

as it oscillates slowly, sometimes faster,

as if some invisible magnet controls it far into the horizon.

Is it really a wooden boat or just one made of paper?

As an angry storm brews over the sea, those black clouds paint the horizon,

the boatsman's heart skips a beat as he looks at his prized catches of the day,

he closes his eyes for a few seconds, fingers clasping the god's miniature photo,

would the thunder puncture those clouds soon?

would the storm turn into a tornado and topple him and the boat?

All he can do is try to take the boat to safety, to the lap of the shore,

and pray.

Even if a fierce storm brews, even if those fierce rains dilute my vision,

even if those waves go frenzy with my boat,

dear gods of the sea, dear mother nature,

please carry me to the shore where my family awaits me,

they're all that I have in the middle of life's turbulence.

***