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Oar

[Back to Setting Sail]

Oar

Across a hot and lifeless sea
the Ship continues her journey
but the wind that drew her sails is gone
and so I sit down under the decks
and I grab the heavy wooden oars.

Muscles strain and pop
my hands fill with blisters and splinters
and sweat beads my forehead,
coats my face and back
as I pull the oars back to my chest
time and again.

When there is no Anchor,
a dead Sail, and no active need of a Rudder
you just have to row.
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