Adrift I am, and starting to float free
of old relationships I wouldn’t rock.
I wallow from the harbor clumsily
but as the distance grows between the dock
and me, I find a purchase for my keel.
I stretch within and animate my mast.
I start to plow the water, though I feel
I know not what, nor how long it will last.

Cut loose, deplored, abandoned and at sea,
this battered spirit isn’t vanquished yet;
the tatters in the sail can be repaired.
Before I was becalmed, but energy
is loosed by this – a tantrum got me wet –
and I’ll sail farther with my psyche bared.