Simple Weight
Simple Weight
I dropped my killick deep into the bay,
not made of iron, but of gathered stone,
and a dead branch lashed tight to keep it whole,
to hold me while the tide turned on its way.
It settled in the mud, a simple weight,
where tiny crabs might skitter and explore,
a humble thing to keep me from the shore,
a promise that I would not drift away.
I watched the water's skin grow hard and gray,
and held the breath I didn't know I'd held.
The line went slack at last, a sudden give.
The tide had shifted and the stone broke free,
and somewhere on the bottom, it was lost.
My simple anchor, set for me to live,
had found a place to rest, a final cost.
And I began to move, a slow release,
as currents pushed me out toward open sea.
I left the killick to its endless peace,
and drifted, finally, with no need to live
within the limits I had set for me.
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