On July 4th, 1957, while America was celebrating its 181st birthday, my parents were getting married in Newfoundland in a place called Trinity. Both were from isolated outports which were accessible only by water and they had to travel to Trinity by boat. After they were married, they settled in one of their home communities but were resettled a few years later as part of the government sponsored Resettlement Program.
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You knew your world was changing
but could you have known the pace
as the wooden hull pushed through the swells
and the wind played upon your face
Were you old enough for choices
that could turn your world on end
or was there just no need to tack
against a favorable wind
Did they cry when you were leaving
or had all their tears been spent
near mounds of earth where loved ones lay
or berths where ropes hung limp
Change had been no stranger
to your young and seamless face
where scrounging this unyielding land
did not thwart the will for grace
You must have sensed some comfort
when that church came into view
A steady beacon from your past
which had shaped your worldview
A solo source of printed words
for those who yearned its call
I wonder what you would have thought
if you had known those walls would fall
Did you feel your world changing
and could you have known the pace
as cliffs loomed high above you
and the winds played upon her face
You knew those cliffs could shelter
or bring an early end
Did your hand come off the tiller
to ride the favorable wind
Hard work was your religion
your cathedrals amongst the trees
where morning frost became stain glass
and sermons whispered in the breeze
Your hands were schooled by doing
and by watching those now weak
I wonder what you would have thought
if you had known your strength had peaked
But sometimes there are moments
when instinct takes a chance
The end result remains unknown
long after the choice to dance
Like the flywheel that was turning
with an energy of its own
we’re often inched towards a shore
where our destiny is unknown
Did you know your world was changing
when you stepped unto the dock
That decisions made worlds away
would sway foundations built on rock
But in the end you did not depend
on the winds that moved you forth
your values were the sails you trimmed
staying true to your true north
©2021 Barry King
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