Adrift and barely afloat,
Drifting in the ocean that they call life,
Alone just drifting,
clinging to driftwood for my life,
Avoiding despair and drowning
By merely the tension of the water.
Across the crests and troughs alike I float,
No choice but to go as the current goes,
The crests let me glimpse this ocean,
But the troughs are so low
I can almost feel the bowels of this earth,
Once on a great big ship was I sailing,
With all those who loved me,
And all those who I loved,
Then rocks tore apart that magnificent vessel,
To the life rafts we all took,
As we feared for our lives
With but one of those whom I held dear
Did I share a wooden boat, but six feet by three,
A few planks of timber against the stormy seas,
And for a while together we did float
Hoping for rescue or land
Forever scanning the Horizon, hoping against hope.
Planning for our future.
A storm suddenly took hold,
Once in the middle of the night,
In the pitch black the boat was smashed,
Awakened and at once fighting for survival,
Everyone once more apart -
Scattered as the driftwood,
To which we must trust our lives.
Of the others I can but hope,
Some probably drowned,
But of this I don't know,
I know only I'm alive,
Alive by the strength of my fingertips,
Drifting in an endless ocean,
All but going under as I plummet
down from each successive crest,
My head above water - just
Kept aloft by a faltering will alone.
Crying out for my family,
Crying out for those who love me,
Crying out for anyone.
No life but me and the sharks below,
As far as I can see
Maybe the next crest will show me life,
The fate of others beyond but me,
For this I must hope,
For otherwise why go on?
What point a life alone on an ocean -
Destined to die?
Please help me.
Help me back to dry land,
Help me back to my feet,
Help me back to those I love.
Chris McKenna04/02/99 17:00-17:40In a friends kitchen after lectures. Slightly revised 05/02/99 in room. |
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| Copyright (C) Chris Mckenna 1999. | |