I received a letter from a very long lost girlfriend. It reads, I still love you, I guess in a way it’s fitting to find it today because today would have and I guess in some ways is our anniversary. She was the one that got away, on paper she was my every hope and dream but paper is cheap and common and I let her drift away on the tide, this ship has sailed. I responded with a letter that she will never understand…
A sailor is not a boyfriend, he is a force of nature to be reckoned with, a shooting star, an explosion of comic dust in the wind. A sailor is wild eyes and wild hair and man stink. I know you will love me when I procure a warm and safe home for you. I know you will love me when I provide food and shelter from the storms. I know you will love me when I cradle your gentle heart. I know you will love me when I take you by the hand and carry you to the highest summets. I know you will love me when I take your body and mind to places you didn’t know existed. I know you will love me for all of these things.
Will you love me when my mind goes to those far off places that don’t exist, not even to you? Will you love me when I stink of tropical sweat and diesel? Will you love me when I’m broken and can’t be fixed, and don’t want you to try? Will you love me when I am doing the things a man should never have to do to protect you but I do?
Could you ever love the warrior in me, even though I’ve never hurt you? Could you love the lifetime of pain that I carry bottled up inside my shipwrecked heart? Could you love a scared man at the tiller battling the forces of nature as I lay down my head before the glass ax of the sea all in your name? Could you ever love a tender heart that needs to be refilled as often as it is depleted?
The sailor is a father figure born from the wisdom of the sea, a leader of the ship and the family and the provider of all nourishment, physical and emotional. I gave you my ship but you were never my anchor, you never held me fast. In your body of water this ship was always drifting on a sea of dispair, lost in the fog of a rocky lee shore.
A sailor is not a boyfriend, he is the salt of the sea, the blood the pulses through your veins, the breath of life that fills your lungs bringing you to rise each day. The moisture and flush of your skin. A sailor is not to be taken for granted because he will surely drift away on the tide and silently as he sailed in.
“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened… or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.”
― Tupac Shakur