My anchor
There are words to use,
movements to complete.
How else can we
cross our borders?
I like indulging my outlines,
belonging without trying.
Sometimes I’m in too deep,
eardrums ringing,
with no-one there to pull me back in,
but I love the sinking
of my mind.
Tangled up in nothing,
waves pass overhead
The morning sun
strikes with terror.
Such murky waters
I have thrown my anchor in,
still layers of putrefied ink.
Beneath the soft sway of toxic algae
I sink and sink with nowhere to go.
So dark and mellow
getting calmer still.
I breathe out
small gasps of liquid ash
deplenishing my oxygen.
Blinded by the black mass of water,
the swirling tide turns to silver
until the black ocean floor
holds all its secrets with gentle jealousy
Sometimes it’s not fight or flight,
sometimes it’s all the same.
Just to swallow shadows and the sea.
movements to complete.
How else can we
cross our borders?
I like indulging my outlines,
belonging without trying.
Sometimes I’m in too deep,
eardrums ringing,
with no-one there to pull me back in,
but I love the sinking
of my mind.
Tangled up in nothing,
waves pass overhead
The morning sun
strikes with terror.
Such murky waters
I have thrown my anchor in,
still layers of putrefied ink.
Beneath the soft sway of toxic algae
I sink and sink with nowhere to go.
So dark and mellow
getting calmer still.
I breathe out
small gasps of liquid ash
deplenishing my oxygen.
Blinded by the black mass of water,
the swirling tide turns to silver
until the black ocean floor
holds all its secrets with gentle jealousy
Sometimes it’s not fight or flight,
sometimes it’s all the same.
Just to swallow shadows and the sea.
Kaisa Saarinen grew up in the Finnish countryside and escaped as quickly as possible. She studied environmental politics and now works as a research analyst in London. Poetry is her crutch for sanity. @kuuhulluutta