Anchors

By Ben Fetterman

Afloat in the sea of life,
That stormy, raging sea,
I looked for a place of shelter,
For an anchor to hold me safe.
For a while, I hung on a piece of pumice.
I thought it was a good anchor;
It had a good grip and kept me afloat.
When I looked at others,
I saw most people trying to hang on to
A bunch of pebbles,
So I thought I was good,
But as time went on, I realized my error.
The texture, while it seemed good for hanging on to,
Was really tearing me to pieces.
While it did keep me afloat, I realized what I needed was
An anchor.
So I let the pumice go,
And decided to try again.
As I was floating again, I found a sea turtle,
I thought that it might work
To keep me afloat in this stormy sea,
But as soon as I grabbed a hold,
It went under, leaving me behind.
So as I floated on, I pondered what I needed
And realized a good, solid anchor was what I really needed,
And so I tried again.
In the distance, I saw a spire of gleaming rock.
When I grabbed the spire, I realized it was razor sharp obsidian,
And the cutting hatred of the spire was worse,
Much worse,
Than the dull, throbbing pain of the sea,
And yet, I held tight all the same,
Because all I thought I needed was
A good, solid anchor.
Finally I realized that there was more to what I needed
Than just a good, solid anchor.
So I let the spire go.
So here I am again,
Afloat alone in the sea of life.