No Safe Harbor
all the sunshine and green grass can’t replace the warmth of home
and yet I’m afraid to go back
u
n
b
o
u
n
d
e
d
u n g r o u n d e d
lost in the middle of black waters and white caps
driving my boat as fast as I can, trying to outrun
the storm
but lightning crackles in front of me, and I’m forced into a premature
destination
“You can’t leave your boat there,” the man tells me.
“That’s where we like to swim.”
after the storm calms, I return to my boat and keep to
the shoreline
but I can no longer recognize which inlet is mine
the storm changed everything
trees are twisted
houses are gone or replaced with mansions
where was that cozy little cottage with the little bed in the bay window
so I could sleep listening to the water?
“Sorry, honey, it was torn down to make room for a new condo development.”
I am alone, adrift
with no port to call my own – no safe harbor
the signals of the other boaters are just confusing me
what do two long honks mean again?
she’s lighting a purple flare
I anchor in the middle,
watching the moon create a line down the middle of everything
huddled here in the open air, the waves can rock me to sleep
until the next storm comes along, and I seek false shelter again