Daily, the bite and burn of hatred rage,
Ever and always o’er all the compass.
My log wastes acid from every page.
I steer by stars seen but seldom nightly,
Often dimmed and obscured by fog of lies.
Yet, near the horizon, burning brightly,
Stabs silver, a dagger piercing my eyes.
I tack, close-hauled before a wind unkind.
I come about and pierce the veiling mist,
Past jagged shoals, the harbor mouth I find,
And sail to peace, by love and sunshine kissed.
Safe harbor built by change in attitude:
My propagnaculum of gratitude.
Mick McKellar
November 2020
Sailing on social media can be hard on one’s hull. The acid in those waters leaves scars that last a very long time. An attitude of gratitude can salve and save the ship.
Mick
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