Down on the Labrador: Towing the Nickerson
I have towed my father’s schooner further
than any vessel has ever been pulled:
two thousand, one hundred and twenty-nine
kilometres, to where my spirit lies
exhausted, pining like an orphaned child
for a half-remembered home, far away.
And I have towed icebergs, shoals of them, from
where my grandfather sailed, in waters deep
as the waters of creation; and whales
more ponderous than any edifice
of man’s design or art. Towed here by my
inconsequential heart, encircling solace
like a familiar harbour, flinging deep
in wave-tossed life these anchors for my soul.