The Ship Poem

I was at a memorial service on Saturday. It was out of doors, and appropriately, in a gentle, cloaking drizzle. A remembering friend brought this poem to the garden where we gathered. The idea behind it struck me as being about so much more than just death and remembrance. When you say goodbye to anything, to anyone - even if for only a while - words like these hold a softly logical comfort: that what you leave, or that which leaves you, has not discontinued but only moved from the realm of your sight. It still lives and breathes and thrives, but in a place where only your imagination might wander.

THE SHIP - (Author Unknown - or rather, google woule attribute it to multiple)

Along the shore I spy a ship
As she sets out to sea;
She spreads her sails and sniffs the breeze
And slips away from me.

I watch her fading image shrink,
As she moves on and on,
Until at last she’s but a speck,
Then someone says, “She’s gone.”

Gone where? Gone only from our sight
And from our farewell cries;
That ship will somewhere reappear
To other eager eyes.

Beyond the dim horizon’s rim
Resound the welcome drums,
And while we’re crying, “There she goes!”
They’re shouting, “Here she comes!”

We’re built to cruise for but a while
Upon this trackless sea
Until one day we sail away
Into infinity.


I think of leaving and I think of returning. In both directions I will leave people, situations, and things behind knowing that none of it will persist exactly until I stand in the same places once again. The view is always changing, the people continue to grow. But I am not gone, only out of your sight.