I was perusing Facebook, as you do, and came across this article: What have we lost now that we can no longer read the sky?
But I read it wrong. I read it as; “What have we lost now that we can no longer reach the sky?”
And coupled with that image, a frozen sailing ship, a vessel no longer able to sail, a yearning reminder of a world suddenly gone…
The woman wept as she took hold of the rope that would lower the sails for the last time. Her companion was up the top of the mast, knife ready to cut the ties that kept the canvas up, and the woman’s bitter tears rolled down her cheeks without her intending them to.
The ships had been grounded for a month. She knew that they’d all been holding out hope, she knew that it might have to happen, but…
The sails tumbled in a slow collapse to hang limp in the lifeless air. No breeze stirred the fabric or touched the faces of the workers. The winds had gone, dropped and vanished, and had not yet returned.
She knew that it had to happen. They could no longer fly. There was no point in keeping the ships, not when their wood and their canvas and their bones could give warmth and shelter and trade to the village.
But couldn’t they have waited just a little longer?