Peace Made

Hit us at the starboard
A gale to prove a harsh world
Cutting sails I cut by hand

On timbers felled on my own land
Worn by weather, salt and sand
A vagabond of faith, I drift

I see my hands, still black with pitch
That clutch this wreck by fingertips
They held her once, and never will again

And now, in this fray
Peace will make its own way
Not for her, and not for me
But for a jealous sky and this damned sea