Anchor, Fear / Severance Pain
aRound my ankle, round my heart,
That chain that grounds me, bears each bolt
of lightning, each spike on my chart
down to the unreactive veldt
This chain is fear, it's kept me here
Safe from monsters, close to sane,
eQuipped to grab the world and steer,
yet shut behind a curtained pane.
Past my peak, & past my cove
The shipping routes go far round here.
They don't come near this buoy's love.
They read my tone as a word: Beware.
Could I cast off, and yet be me
and sail across each of these routes
to where the world goes mad? and see
the distant lands of foreign tongues?
If I'm built to sail but no one told me?
If me's not really the best thing to be?
It's time to cut myself in half,
to cut the anchor, drop the fear
and make the voyage I hold so dear
in a heart forgetting how to laugh.
In a heart of unyielding iron pain.
In a heart that sees in iron a chain.
2007-12-04
11:00:37
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3 answers
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➔ Poetry
T.U. Anonymous. The liquor is good?
Tried to get into a bit of my old adolescent state for this one... I'm a liar - it's how I still feel now. Yes - I'm in arrested development. Cards are welcome. Just don't forget to say what you thought of the poem.
2007-12-04
11:21:14 ·
update #1
Fr. A.J. - not they physical area of the heart - the metaphorical center of being.
2007-12-04
12:07:26 ·
update #2