Island, Alone

A castaway

And hope stretched thin

The storm, the wreck, the digging in

Two shipmates lost

Their hearts broke first.

The loneliness, the chill and thirst.

The gulls would teach

One errant mind

To dig for clams

And seaweed find.

The bonfires stoked

The night stars dreamed

Mid hopelessness

A touch of God

It seemed.

To not let go.

To curb the tongue.

To write rich memory

From days when young.

And scan that line, yes

Each spent day.

To persevere and plant and pray.

(Ideas from the epic narrative poem Enoch Arden by Tennyson)