ISTHMUS

.

.

Land’s End

stretched a little, by man’s hand

the small dyke to the island

the estuary waves

.

The soul wavering

enough land in sight

to live the illusion of

a wafer-thin screen

between alien and home

safety first, for those

who do not brave the sea

.

Tidal flooding of the little link

as close to freedom

this bump of earth can ever get

millions of years have passed

a motherless child, afraid of letting go

always holding someone’s hand

.

Then again

 at high tide it might allow

the coming of a second Christ

to cheat and walk the waters

.

An elegant tern is floating by

telling cowards of the sad imprisonment

in the shackles of freedom

.

[pace the poet’s guide:

beware of anthropomorphism]

.

Sierksma, Port des Barques 7.10/2023