What Happens When You Sail

An anchor is released, 

down down down she goes, 

gliding through the suspended open ocean,

the unknown end rapidly rising up, 

she lands with a ripple, 

dragging through the seafloor, 

kicking up billows of sand,  

crashing through unfamiliar ground

arms grasping at the rocks rising from the sand,

as if to greet her, a rock reaches up, 

grabbing the anchor,

they meet, 

their grips harden,

giving her a place to hold on to, 

the anchor shiny and new,

an alien in her new refuge, 

settles in the seabed,

time merges her to the floor, 

now, covered in the dust and grass of the bed, 

she blends in, 

belongs,

no longer kicking up sand,

the fish accept her,

the flow of the water accustomed,

incorporating her in its rout,

the anchor is no longer alien,

now a piece of the floor, 

overgrown by the weeds and sand,     

once new,

now old, 

the boat now shifts,

the expected decision,

slowly the heart fills,

the inside of a gyre,

she's ripped from her residence, 

crumbling away from her perch, 

leaving behind her imprint, 

she's whisked through the sea 

up, up, up into the boat,

weeping salt,

off to unseen waters,

where unknown ground,

will greet her once again.