This is the poem I wrote while in Spain. I read it at our last open mic a couple nights ago. Some of the references might not make sense to those not on the ship, and I can explain them later. I think it captures the bittersweetness I feel as we approach the end of the voyage...

"The Addiction"
A tribute to The Scholar Ship J08 Voyage


I'm addicted to this place, on this here boat
A traveling island upon which we float.

Only four months, for some it's been eight
What brought us together? I call it fate.

So much we have lived in this short time
With forty nations, I forget which one's mine.

From China to Thailand, that was our start
And suddenly Spain, looking at art.

Can we slow down from Turkey, turn back the clock
Pretend we got lost, or hit by a rock?

Come on Captain, you took back some hours
Gave part-cloudy skies with a couple of showers.

I fear the ending; I need a new cause
I feel the addiction, yet long for a pause.

The intensity, the emotions, from a wide selection
A roller coaster ride and no stop for reflection.

I'm tired now, on this here boat
A traveling carnival, upon which we float.

And I ache already for this here boat
It's now our home upon which we float.

But I'm tired of waves that knock me to sleep
Of nausea so bad, that some start to weep.

And I'll miss those waves that rock me to sleep
With each ocean sunset, the sight makes me weep.

But I'm tired of my food being whisked away
When a minute was all I left my tray.

And I'll miss seeing Vic when we move away
And his gracious smile, as he takes me tray.

But I'm tired of questions they come without warning
No matter the stairwell or time in the morning.

And I'll miss those talks--true gifts without warning
And the comfort in knowing, I'll see you in the morning.

But I'm tired of being forced to always debrief
I don't want to process; I need some relief.

And I'll miss the experience of shared debrief
With people who care; a special relief.

But I'm tired of this laundry, of shrinking shirts
I'm getting a complex; No more desserts!

And I'll miss coming back to my folded shirts
And the care that goes into our homemade desserts.

But I'm tired of having to choose in each port
What will I miss; A week is too short.

And I'll miss the adventures that come with each port
How lucky are we in a life that's too short?

But I'm tired of constantly switching gears
From boats to ports; I've aged ten years.

And I'll miss the movement of switching gears
A lifetime of novelty in weeks; not years.

But I'm tired of culture this and that
What if it's not culture; What if she's just a brat?

And I'll miss the songs of this culture and that
When below the iceberg we finally chat.

Do you now see why I'm so conflicted
Why I am tired and also addicted?

Do you see why I'm scared to leave this place
Yet why I can no longer sustain this race?

It's seeped to my core, this here boat
This space in time upon which we float.

What will we remember when we look back
Which memories will flood as we start to unpack?

And which memories will we really favor
Vividly recall, hold onto, and savor?

I bet they're not the ones we imagine
But rather the ones we just cannot fathom.

And when I stop to wonder was all of this real
The sights, the sounds, did all this I feel?

I'll turn to you, and you'll tell me it's real
And without a word, you'll know how I feel.

The final stretch on this here boat
I honor this symbol which kept us afloat.

And after this journey, I'll say with conviction
The world I was given through this addiction.