Weigh Anchor
it's moving
on time, the skies are clear
the tattered sails are mended, those same
sails which would not, or so it seemed,
carry us any further, your look
in the car outside the park
after the interview on the radio, my
weary weight sagging into the passenger
seat beside you, head thrown all the way back,
eyes closed and nobody, not even you, knowing
where i was at that moment, there was a hole
in me below the water line, i had to stop
to repair and though you rode proudly
high in the water your rudder was gone
this bay
of us shown nowhere on our maps
suddenly found on our transitional coast, we look
up and see we, you plug holes, i fix rudder,
and when we are through what do we do,
linger, no, this is harbor but not home,
what we have shared it is now time to leave
we weigh emotional anchors and set sail
each to another place that the other
is not going
—kalamu ya salaam