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Island

Writer's picture: James YearyJames Yeary

Updated: Apr 24, 2021



Cast off from the unforgiven hazy past with me

where lines of scars run deep over the salted banks


Set a course through the mist to the frozen white north

or the darkened groves of the haunted south


Take your lifeboat far out from the isle of empty

and of years gone by


If voices call out from the cragged bluffs

over the hollow howl of the lighthouse

that rages across the white capped sea

do not answer—for they are already gone.


Cast off from what could have been and what was

through silent swells and creaking hulls

Drift on, past who you thought you’d be and who you are

through ancient wrecks and crying gulls


Far, far from the quiet shores of the island, you’ll see yourself again—

who will you be?




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