The Sextant

So you became
one sixth of a circle.
A maiden’s,
maiden voyage cut short.
Mortality measured in minutes 
and days.
Remembering,
wishing, 
breath into your sails,
strong seas,
a salutation of stars
and a sextant
to bring you home.
My child and a rapidly, rising river.
Saint Christopher crossing without you.
And today, ten years later, day-dreaming
on a train to Belfast.
A lady,
like you,
alighting at Botanic.

© swissterrace 2018
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critique and comments welcome.

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Superb…I think this is a poem of grief, but demonstrates hope. Love the last five lines.

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