What anchors you?
Relationships? Work? Drama? Celebrity? Politics?
How’s that working?
Okay, okay, you’re good if these don’t let you down.
If you aren’t left feeling vacant inside,
maybe inadequate, insignificant.
So you’re doing okay?
Okay, okay some of you are.
Until the next crisis.
Until you wake to an occasion not of your making
and your anchor du jour shipwrecks
In a pity-port of past problems, insecurities, and pains.
And you fall into roiling waters,
gasping, flailing drowning . . .
There is another anchor, a rock, a lamb.
He cleans you up. Nurtures you. Loves on you.
And He tests you.
He has to. You’re a mess, pretty much.
Such unforgiveness, gossip, revenge, addiction, offense.
Thoughts. Thoughts that make you wonder what kind of human you are.
Makes you wonder if you can really be saved
from the quagmire of quicksin
sucking you in, teasing you, pulling you, mesmerizing you.
Making you feel good about yourself for,
oh please, only a second
Wash, wash, wash.
It’s His specialty, cleaning you up.
Keeps washing, washing, until you quit gasping for breath.
Until your lens is less gritty, your thoughts kinder.
Until you look away from guilt, greed, and shame,
and see your immersed self through untainted eyes.
See water no longer roiling, or angry, or hot.
Just sterile and salty. Licking and lapping.
Playful waves letting you float with your head back.
Sometimes you gag.
Sometimes you float, awash in wonder. . .
His anchor secures you now.
At times you feel transcendent.
Other times you are just there.
Content. Happy. Peaceful.
by: Karyn Cantees Stagg