"Adrift" by A. Wyeth

We’ve sewn you sails
with our hair,
unfurled, neatly
folded there;
with our blood
we pressed you wine,
that’s worthless now
as casks of brine.

From the clay hearth
of our heart
our bread, for you,
has come apart,
disintegrating
in the sea
like days melt into
history.

So busy with
the lines and arbor
we missed you slip
our quiet harbor;
in a humble
hand-hewn dory,
a modest man
to meet his glory.

Across the cold and
callous deep
beloved, sail;
we only weep
in finding that
we are bereft
but in the wake
your voyage left

our love lights all the
stars that find you,
prayers push steady
winds behind you,
as tempests break
and bow in shame
before the whisper
of your name.

[you can see the painting here.]