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Anchor

I’ve been drifting for such a long time
This old ship with its seafaring ways
But big waves ever harder to climb
Seem to threaten to shorten my days

This old ship and its seafaring ways
Barnacled heavy with bowing of masts
Seem to threaten to shorten my days
I just wonder how long I will last

Barnacled heavy with bowing of masts
For these years I’ve refused His strong hand
I just wonder how long I will last
Till I find once again some soft sand

For these years I’ve refused His strong hand
And though parched have rejected His drink
Till I find once again some soft sand
I deserve from my choices to sink

And though parched have rejected His drink
I detect that the waters recede
I deserve from my choices to sink
But instead for His mercy I’ll plead

I detect that the waters recede
And so reach for the bent cross of iron
But instead for His mercy I’ll plead
Casting rope with the weight so required

And so reach for the bent cross of iron
I expect ocean’s floor to be rough
Casting rope with the weight so required
For the anchor He gives is enough

I expect ocean’s floor to be rough
I’ve been drifting for such a long time
For the anchor He gives is enough
And the hills in His steps I will climb

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Date: 11/6/2018 3:29:00 AM
mesmerizing. there's a lot to learn from your poem.
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Elam Avatar
Mark Elam
Date: 11/6/2018 4:44:00 AM
Thank you Deepti. The rhythm of the pantoum lent itself well to the story.