Flumes Vol. 6: Issue 1, Summer 2021 | Page 120

111

A shattered armada drifted in,

Staggered toward the shore,

Ripped sails and broken masts;

Their figureheads had lost their heads.

I am no god, a shepherd at best

But it doesn’t matter who I am,

For I will climb those steps again

And every night I will shine a light

To bring those children home.