Words Worth A Thousand Pictures

Crushing the Cliche That A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words


When a boy has lost his moorings
and buries pain behind,
His eyes lift seaward, pull him forward
to worlds where rules are scarce.

To worlds, cold and dangerous,
impervious to dependence
on brittle frames that shatter
at the slightest change in wind.

And so he surges forward,
fueled by anger, groping blindly
on paths uncharted, through fields unturned
in search of nothing, in search of all.


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2 thoughts on “Lost

  1. Heather Burton on said:

    Stephen, this aches.

    Not only is the photo heartrending, so is the poem’s sentiment that we can find home by getting lost.

    I visited the Ellis Island museum two weeks ago and stood, aching, in front of photo after photo of warfside waifs like this little boy. The yearning for home, for one’s own piece of terra firma, for tangible belonging to a land that cared if one lived and breathed, was the screaming message of that echoing hall, the officious rooms, the wide harbour, the photos, the suitcases, the ship passenger manifests. Am I home?

    You’ve described it sharply. Many have gone to sea “in search of all”– gone to sea, gone to addiction, gone to abandonment, gone to wander. We continue to “surge forward” to find our place.

    I have to wonder: tossed to and fro, do we ever find what we’re looking for? Why aren’t we as eager to head for moorings and anchor and home?

  2. Liz Q on said:

    Steve, wow these are really good. This one brought tears to my eyes. Thanks

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