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The Silence of Relinquishment

The crosswinds have blown,
The sails have grown rigid-
Like sails of iron.
Every lingering breath
Breathes surrender.

There are no weapons on this vessel
Just the weapon of a brave heart
But that heart grows
Weary and worn,
Fragile and old.

Aye, this vessel groans
In abdication,
Pull down her masts,
Throw the anchor
in the safe respite of a harbor…
She yields silently…in surrender.

Sharon Frye

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