Here on the tether
The checkered draughts
On leeward vessels
Tacking into the wind,
Skimming like serpents at an Irish Wake,
Here it is taut,
And fraught with danger,
A sturgeon speared
His harpoon nose upturned.
There is a danger in the familiar,
Where contempt is easily bought
With the coin of solidarity,
As brotherly love is confounded
With weakness.
Blessed are the meek,
He who named himself I am said
The weak and troubled,
Broken and bruised;
For weakness needs strength
And sorrow compassion;
But the waves just roll on,


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