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Day 26. What a trip so far, I’m feeling the tension now as we head to the last few days. A second wind of sorts has taken hold. Or perhaps it’s just groundrush as I head earthward after leaping from the plane, not sure where this one arrived from, maybe Not Waving, but Drowning, by Stevie Smith. I always liked it, short and to the point. I’ll go with it for today. Have a good weekend everyone, see you on the other side.

Sinking.

It wasn't that I didn't know we were going to sink,
just I expected more.  Old film creaking, the odd clank
here and there, sweaty faces and worried glances
at some dial or other.  Between us though
we managed to get to the bottom, deep enough
to scrape the paint from the hull, and leave
some deep gashes in the metalwork for the return
to the surface.  Where we gasped air and paddled
furiously, looking around to find the shore.
Wondering what happened and who was to blame.

In the papers it got scarcely a mention,  Sunk Sub
Resurfaces to Slink Home Alone.  We never knew
what it was to sail on a stiff breeze into safe waters
with flags flying, a triumphant return to home port.

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