Weathering The Storm

(Painting shown is not the painting described)
 
I can't show it to you
Haven't seen it for a long time
Not since 4th grade
A field trip to the art museum
I liked art
I looked at every painting there
But one
It stood out to me
I never understood art until that painting
 
It was a sailing ship
During a storm
But not one where you could see the ship fighting the waves
No
The point of view was from the cabin door
 
The point of view was everything
 
The winds were blowing
The rain was coming down in waves from the sky
You couldn't see the end of the ship
All I remember vividly was a bucket and a rope
Just outside the door
 
The rope was coiled and the wooden bucket sat in the middle
It was big rope
One end in the bucket and the other trailing from the coil
It traveled off into the nothingness of the storm
 
There were other items you could see
They were being tossed about from one side to the other
But not the rope and the bucket
 
You could tell
They didn't move
 
The sudden realization that the artist wasn't painting this because he liked ships
It wasn't something he read in a book
There was only one way he would have known the rope didn't move
He was there
 
Suddenly, so was I
 
The winds were howling in my ear
I could feel the rains hitting my face
The waves were tossing the ship
Like a pair of dice in a craps game in the alley behind the soda shop
Seasickness hit and like that I was back grabbing for a waste basket
 
I never told a soul
 
Years passed, and I went back to the art museum
Searching for an oil painting I never found
 
Imagine how I felt when I realized words can do the same