Washed Ashore

Was willing to settle
even before casting off –
anchor-less, with no compass
to guide me, nor oar to steer

Left fate to the currents –
a vessel adrift, naïve –
trusted those with power
to rescue me, unaware…

of the target vulnerability
made of me, that sharks
circle wayward boats,
certain of a catch

No wonder, when finally
I came ashore, wrecked,
I had lost faith in love,
turned hope to cynicism

Had failed to register
the dangers of sailing
into uncharted waters,
without a life preserver

Ignorant of the skills
I needed to stay afloat
and safe, in a sea where
discernment saves lives.

(Washed Ashore first appeared here in July of 2018. Edited. Image my own)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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