months have tripped by and life has been unravelling stitch by stitch
only to be scooped up examined and mended where possible.
post fire life has taken on a different quality
and explanations are poor affairs when integration and trauma
wrestle for space.

• 

Here’s a tale ( but not all is told)
of a man with a mission
a dream realised
of bravery high drama and fortitude
of inspiration and love.

We had been waiting for hours
finally a sighting,
a white sail bobbing on a big swell
crossing the foaming horses galloping into Horseshoe bay.
a week since leaving Botany Bay
My beloved is almost home.
the wind threatening
will not allow hats scarves or the use of binoculars
hair stinging against cheeks.

Kingston wants to sit in the car
play with his ipod.
Why love?
its windy grandma.
heaven help me
look here comes grandad
he doesnt realise
having an adventure at 73
turning your world upside down
sailing an ocean
tackling your fears
giving up comforts
hang on a minute,
he has a teapot and cosy
chocolate cheese and paisley curtains
books and charts on bulging shelves
a feather pillow for sweet dreams.

Sailing past the heads
where is he going grandma?
just checking out the bar love
no room to get this wrong
not on this wild day.

Midsummer blood sport in Bermagui
a crowd on the cliff top
on a ferociously windy day
watching the trawlers, pleasure boats, fisherfolk
bump and wobble cross the bar,
ooohs and aaahhs chasing.

A tiny 24 foot blue boat
Telemachus
remember him
son of Penelope and Odysseus,
went looking for his dad
found him, they teamed up
and beheaded all of Mums suitors.

The ocean thrashing around
wind scudding and bold,
Telemachus is caught out on the turn
lurches and leans over,
Kingston squeals grabs me
they are designed to roll I say
heart in mouth.

come on love you can do it
you’re home love you can do it
some madwoman is screaming
oh gosh that was me.

All round us people are jabbering
phones clicking videos streaming
mad as a cut snake this bloke
why doesn’t he put his engine on?
has he got a phone?
goddess help me
sever their heads.

The pitching blue boat lines up the bar
hand fixed to tiller
white sail snapping in the wind.
Telemachus rises up
bounces falls rises again
catches a single moment of calm
and sails elegantly through the heads
into the harbour.
he nailed it grandma.
indeed he did.

Thunderous applause claps and cheers
from awed bystanders
puzzles the tired captain.

• 

all the way from Sydney to Bermagui
our hero and no suitors to behead.
January 25, 2021.