Adrift

And as we vaguely drift away 

on these grey and ageing seas,

Made dumb by the same sound of static 

drowning our voices

And blinded 

By the recurring fragmentation of the light

which breaks against the shifty surface,

to ward away anxieties, 

These reasonable anxieties,

like Medea in a foreign land, 

Or like the sacrificial pellican,

At your behest, to do my part

I’ll pull my heart out from my chest.

Full throatedly I’ll serve this mess

So no one could unreasonably 

(In the face of such adversity)

accuse me of halfheartedness.