Not Drowning But Waving Poem by Richard Blanch

White and calm the days drifted. A peaceful life.
How is this then? Now eyes, hair, the whetting,
Of wit on my shifting stonework, a knife,
Idly paring me clear of forgetting.
Stirring my lake into whirlpools, bring long
Immersed memories bobbing along
To the tune of your newness. I’m stung
Into nervousness. Too long I’ve clung
Without knowing to lifebelt and poolside.
Out here I know I must swim. And alone-
No clinging dependencies. Rains have come
Down on my sand dunes. Things grow. No more hiding,
Escaping what matters in twilight. Your sun
Routs me out, makes me drunk…….makes me run.