The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

embark to ports of words sold by children,
boats list in morning murmur, light devoid
of depth recedes to distant; no matter,
mere hunger, senses loud, a gull’s cry settles
in dust new born: one new step in worlds
at home with themselves, out of joint
with knowing. Cleaved from fetal sleep
on board, I walk unsteadily. I listen,
all ear to foreign climate. Ticks
like a clock.Voices bend and bow
like waves up against shore.
Looking into sky I see myself
in a drone’s eye.
The shadow drifts beyond me as I do.

This brings two clear images to mind.  It could be the reactions and bewildered thoughts of any immigrant - legal or otherwise - when they first set foot on a new land,  where everything is a mixture of familiar and totally alien.

The other, and first image which came to mind, was of a young child, in a barely seaworthy boat, lying in the damp bottom, feeling the motion, seeing the sky, hearing the gull, knowing everything is going to change, and probably just as terrified as they had ever been in their original homeland.

Gyppo