John McKenna’s most recent poem to appear here was “The Other Boys of Summer” (November 2013)
An account of the first of Summer’s Muse: releasing the spell of the secular she that came before her
By John McKenna
I.
New summer new olde summer olde
your gold to bronze
your blue to gray
your twilight, to merely shadow
yet this very shore of ancient ocean
still whispers and hums
coos calls beckons
not and no longer to sail
search and sojourn to find you
as that has been done,
once and ago
you yourself can read of my having discovered you,
you may find it and other things there,
still in the parchment
in a foreign land visited
but in dreamscape
instead, to push off
deep plunge
azure waves endless
ancient cresting white
and purple
to now and forever leave this wreckage
concede this once fine ship
to rook and bittern
gull and crab
to wind and wave
sail new again
in a new made
small slender single craft
a fisherman’s boat
hand crafted in the vision by inspiration,
in the design of, knowledge and traditions
shared of my outlaw Brothers of
the fires, tents and shores of Galilee
a boat, that once
but needed not—
but for gift and grace—and mercy
held the feet of the Wild Christ
to now
carry on shoulder this boat,
across scrub and rock
territories, field and dry
to the shore
of the Mediterranean chalice
to sail West
II.
sail West
like others
of wounds survived
seeking only Peace
West
with wind and knowledge
made from insights—
cut of scars—
seeking wisdom water wake
and West
heart wounds, filling the bottom
of this small boat,
wet and flopping
like a great catch of fish
when air and sun begin to harden,
to gently before they quiver not again,
with eyes wide and light receiving,
by my hands
quench, return them back to the sea
III.
to the rigging adjust,
sure to sail,
hold
hand
heart
to line
eyes
to horizon widening
sail into the West
voyage
new
wave
and
wonder