Ancient Polynesians sailed their canoes
thousands of miles into wind, exploring
for new worlds, not fearing distance. They knew
Tāwhiri would caress their backs, soaring
them across gentle seas when they returned.
Playing the odds in their search, they’d follow
birds whose windward flights found land. How I’ve yearned
for such a life, longing to flee hollow
smiles, graced by symbols of sure things as I
sail away and toward. Tell me, love, what you
wish for. Do you long to seek secret isles
where we two can breathe as one? Tell me true.
Would you rather live alone? Bid me sail
without you, my song lost in the wind’s wail?
Roger Armbrust
August 31, 2010
