Too Far Out

Too far out from the dock now
to think there’s safety
to be gained by turning back.

Forward, drop anchor, or founder:
those seem to be the only choices.
Go on toward the horizon or stop

and wait for rescue, or stop
and sink right here and see
who notices, if anyone does. 

Or — we could turn back. 
It’s no safer but it’s movement
and we’d know what’s waiting for us

where we’d be headed. Can still just see
the grey line of coastal hills
back there, where there’s everything

we’ve left behind. No real comfort there, 
if you are asking; you shouldn’t need
to ask. We could remake it, you plead.

Sure, we could. But there’s all this ocean
to ponder. And what’s that ahead of us
rising out of the water? We should wait and see

lest we choose too rashly. Everything
we’ve chosen to this point has been
reckless. Prudence now, even if it drowns us,

would suggest a pause. At any rate
I’m not sure we can turn back. The wind
is shifting. There may be a storm coming. 

We have come so far. We have nothing
back there that won’t keep or be passed on
to better folks if we do not return. 

Whatever is rising ahead of us
is breaking the surface. We should at least
see what it is before making a choice. 

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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