When All Are Refugees
Sails drop, worthless
in this gale. Safe harbor
nowhere in sight, we drift,
helpless against the rocks strewn
by our own master, the anchor chain
wrapped round our legs.
When times are so out of joint,
there is no inner peace,
and all are outsiders.
This is my response to The Secret Keeper’s Weekly Writing Prompt #178,
with the words rock, joint, inner, sight & sail.
Image source: Wikimedia Commons
Storm in the Sea, by Ludolf Bakhuizen