Vessel

A personal essay by Emery Warr

We build vessels to protect ourselves. But time turns ships into shells and shields into masks that only serve to distort our own reflections.

Last week, in the early evening, I invited several friends to join me as I made my way to the fluttering banks of the Provo River. We built a ship out of aluminum foil, folded silver sheets and crumpled them together to create sails, masts, bow, stern, deck, and hull. Some pieces tore in the process, but we crinkled them so no one could tell, and really, no one could. Then we sent our ship down the river.

When I was young, before I wrapped myself in a shiny coat that reflected expectations, Mother and I would sing by the ocean. We sang about barges and pirates, harmonizing with the churning of the waves as they thundered beneath, between, within us. I let my melodies go without fear, all power and peace.