Poetry on Odyssey: Shipbuilding

This tree, evergreen, oak, enormous and with roots that are deep in the earth.

This tree, our salvation, our vehicle to a better place.

The wood, a stench of moss, animal scat, and rot.

The wood, dark brown, rough, as if made by rocks.

My axe, it cuts into the rock like wood making a loud noise that scares away any animals.

My axe, the noise it makes lets the other trees know that this one has been claimed.

My axe, as soon as it touches the tree, leaves begin to spread from the tree

As if calling for help with the wind.

My axe, becomes heavy after a few hours, covered in dead wood and moss.

My axe, has given me what I need to make my ship.

My ship, the bark sanded down creates the hull, the body of my vehicle.

My ship, the center board a holster for the mast and sails, keeps the ship from tipping over.

My ship, the mast a tower of wood and rope.

My ship, the sails, white cloth made to repurpose the wind.

My ship, the wheel, a clunky rough piece of oval wood, an instrument meant to guide and steer my ship.

The stump, an oval piece of wood with an unmeasurable circumference.

The stump, a bloody piece of evidence of what was once there.

The branch, a piece of rotted wood that lays next to the wood.

The branch, one brother whispers to the other "See we would be dead if we stayed with them."

The branch, the other brother whispers back "Fool, we are already dead."

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