Cast adrift, I float.

My boat a simple coracle:

Bent withies, rawhide shell,

No sail, no paddles.

Calm as a village pond

The sea holds me

Cupped in watery hands

I could step ashore,

Wet no more than knees,

Feel feet on shingle

And a heavy failure.

The current catches-

I whirl like lily leaf let loose.

Dizzied, I sit down,

Hug my knees and wait:

The farthest shore is near.

12 thoughts on “Coracle

    • Thank you Jade.
      It is about tranformation and exploration; many Celtic mystics literally did what the poem describes and set off to sea without oars and chose to let faith take them to their fate.
      I can’t comment at yor blog as it simply refuses to let me, though I have tried several times, but to let you know I am reading and enjoying yours


  1. Love the image of lying in the bottom of a boat and just floating freely. A friend of mine used to tell everyone that he was going fishing, but he’d just lie in the bottom of the boat and float. People teased him about never catching a fish. He’d wink at me. We knew his soul time was the best catch of all.


  2. Journeying…this last year I have felt enclosed in a small space, not unlike a coracle, and set adrift, simply with the hope that “the farthest shore is near”. Many thanks. Your offering has brought it closer.


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