Hopes Held Over High Water

Head held over high water, looking down and looking back. Let it sleep. Let it slip, through fingers worn thin and relish the moment we forgot, aching to do it again. Our buckets dredge the bottom of that merciless current. Tying handkerchiefs around our heads and under our necks, no white flags left to wave. Wading into deep water and looking back to shore, at all the boats that remain unmoored, ropes dragging in the shallows and anchors dropped into moving sands. Hoping weight to bring stillness, as the tide washes over it all, again.