The treasures that prevail

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail...
...the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster ...
...We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which our names do not appear.
From Diving into the Wreck by Adrienne Rich

A grey day - still, soft and mizzly. No auroras down here but a visit to this wreck, hauled from its original position onto the shoreline and out of sight, still exudes a powerful and gloomy atmosphere. This extract,from a much longer poem, seems to fit very well - I had no knife but everything else made sense.

More work in the garden inspite of the damp - more logs cut and all windows washed of the salt from the storms (Himself); logs stacked and a small wall cleared of ivy/brambles/teasels and gunge (me).

Happy St David's Day to all Welsh folk out there too.