Without Anchor
You are asking me
to float
without touching
the bottom
in waters calm
and turbulent
and driven
by storm or
constellation shifts
often watching
the faces I love
sweep by
out of reach
riding their own wave
or spinning
and swirling
half drowned
in a current
they may or may not
have made —
And all I can do
is trust
the water
to hold me
exactly where I am
my feet ungrounded
and without anchor
my hands unfilled
and without purpose
but my heart
still determined
to fling out
a thousand
life preservers
even though
you show me
it’s clearly not
my job
to do more
than catch embrace
and release —
encumbering them
only with fresh
encouragement —
because hope
is ultimately
more vital
than love.
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