The Stowaway

Tiny anchors tether our weather-beaten hearts together

Tiny anchors tether our weather-beaten hearts together
What sailor does not dream of clandestine gentleness?
Our shared hope is a blank page tearing darkness asunder.

We drift for years longing for the respite of a safe harbor
Word by word, line by line we sail away from distress
Tiny anchors tether our weather-beaten hearts together.

Every day is a random gift from life we now seek to honor
Only hardened custodians of fearlessness cheat death!
Our shared hope is a blank page tearing darkness asunder.

We are weary yet we risk conjuring up wit and wonder
Curiosity thrives between the lines, impish and audacious
Tiny anchors tether our weather-beaten hearts together.

The stories we share are written with affection and candor
We worship at the altar of empathy and defiant kindness
Our shared hope is a blank page tearing darkness asunder.

As the effluvia of past pain slowly recedes a little further
We dare ourselves to become one another’s witness
Tiny anchors tether our weather-beaten hearts together
Our shared hope is a blank page tearing darkness asunder.

“Where the hand becomes entirely thinking, gentleness begins there too, secretly.”
Anne Dufourmantelle

I’m a French-American writer, journalist, and editor living out of a suitcase in transit between North America and Europe. To continue the conversation, follow the bird. For email and everything else, deets in bio.

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The human condition is not a pathology・👋ASingularStory[at]gmail・ ☕️ https://ko-fi.com/ASingularStory

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