Sailor Without a Port

For a sailor without a port no wind is favorable. — Seneca

I may as well throw out my to-do list.

Those old tasks have no point now.

Lost, I don’t know

where I’m going, let alone

how to get there.

I’d like to fly away home,

but the ships in the harbor are burning.

The whole city is on fire,

books packed tightly

on their shelves

feel the lick of the flame.

Still, I know where I came from,

and even if the hollow eyes

of the monsters who lit the match

are glowing in the darkness,

I am not alone.

In the flickering light

I see you.

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Mary Camille Thomas

Mary Camille Thomas is a native of Santa Cruz, California who considers herself lucky to have returned after living internationally and on the road. She is a librarian by profession, and her poetry has appeared in The Moving Force Journal, Porter Gulch Review, and Sisters Singing. She is currently working on a novel called What Lies Buried and a collection of poems of the spirit. View all posts by Mary Camille Thomas

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