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  • Writer's pictureJen Marsden

Poem: My Anchor

Updated: May 31, 2021

It is the earth of the garden

That my bare feet touch and recognise

With each season and it is the sound of

My neighbour's voice in the distance.

It is the ceiling, the floor, the door

That I enter, exit, enter, exit, enter 

At the end of a hard day and close firmly.

It is the playful nudge from the friend 

Who reads my expressions over coffee 

And cake and her encouraging smile

That knows what I'm going to say next.

It's the falling asleep, slight dribble, 

In the big comfy armchair and the book

With the curled pages, read and cogitated 

Umpteen times, and the scraggy blanket

Warming my lap.

It is the finger twisting of my hair

The spot popping

The toe nail clipping

The baggy knickers wearing

The no make up day

The ink all over my fingers day

The I have nothing that needs to be done day

The I am my own goddess day

The I feel free to stay in the moment day

No need to jump ship, or feeling like it's a case of swim or sink,

searching for driftwood to hang onto or armbands to keep me afloat 

No undercurrents dragging me down.



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