By Kholodnitskiy Maksim

Photo by Kholodnitskiy Maksim

Unsure of myself,

I stepped on the dock.

A flurry of activities was going on.

Great cries could be heard;

People calling out to each other.

Young boys in their light cotton shirts,

Hauling their trunks to the ship.

Young girls, standing bravely;

Dreams and ambitions in their poise.

All saying farewell to their mothers,

Their fathers, brothers, sisters, friends.

But most of all, saying goodbye

To the lives that they had known.


And then, there was me,

Confused, terrified, incongruous.

I had my trunk and my ticket too.

I was there ahead of time.

And yet, I stood rooted on the spot,

Fighting with myself.

For I could see the promises

Of the land at the end of the sea.

And I could see the beauty

Of the land behind me.

The ship now blew its final horn,

And yet my feet were anchored still;

I could not decide.


Time stands still while I write this.

And at the end of this moment,

Perhaps I shall know.

5 thoughts on “Anchored

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