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Friday, September 4, 2015

Whose Journey is it?

Swinging the oar to the rush of wave,
A frantic left with all my might
To compensate a stroke to the right-
Mind fixated on staying afloat, and safe-

To keep the head of the kayak straight
Sweaty hands firmly on the paddle,
While my nerves play gamble,
Demanding the inordinate;

They agreed- I was determined-
My persistence would drive me ashore,
That I’d be part of the folklore;
They were all appreciative, very kind.

Did they recognize my sacrifice?
How I turned a blind eye to bordering cliffs,
Barely a careless glance at a colorful fish-
Rowing to their cheer, like a rolling dice.

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