Dry Land

I am adrift
but my feet stand
on solid ground.
The dirt undulates,
rolls in waves
and my stance wavers
on the crest
of crashing water.
My fingers clutch
and scratch
at the floor,
and I know
the tide is coming,
that I will be fallen
by sheets of rain
and snow,
that my ground
will turn to mud
and I will sink
beyond all rescue.
I’m drowning on dry land
and your hands
are my only savior.

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