In memory of my cousin, Albert Tsuneyuki Tokuno, 1936-2008
Perhaps they still build ships of wood using “ways,”
Struts to support the hull while the ship was being formed.
I don’t know, but once such ships could brave the waters
Anywhere once those struts were taken away and the vessel
Launched. When the ship was ready and their ways ceased
To be needed; the ship was ready to sail and the ways
Were cast aside as a bottle was broken against the bow for luck.
Our ways slip aside with a similar liquid christening,
But not all at one time. For many of us, these struts are gone
Before we are ready to leave our harbors. If we are lucky,
We see each of them for what they are before too many
Have left our sides. Even as we complete our inner riggings.
We only begin to see their worth. We value their strength
Only after we no longer feel their struts pressing us,
Only after we have been at sea for years and have set
Our compasses for that inevitable passage we follow
As we sail north in their white and clear wake.
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