We’re hove-to
Against this storm.
Bow pointed into it,
Warps streamed astern,
Double reefed mizzen taught and centered,
Helm lashed to starboard,
Storm staysail lashed to port.

We’re hunkered down below,
Lee strapped in the sea-bunk,
Tired and wet,
Licking our wounds,
Slip-sliding — 
Sea-tossed — drifting.

Some dawn soon will be calm and clear;
We’ll shoot the Sun and measure the stars;
Find ourselves
And set a new course for destiny.


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