Anchor of Gold

We all set sail at dawn

boat and promises

polished til gleaming,

sails full of hope.

I once believed in the horizon.

We prayed to the wind,

but the iron lying below the waves

burdened our journey.

No one spoke of it at first..

Capitalism,

that monstrous anchor,

looped itself around our ankles,

slipped between our ribs

replacing hearts

and pulled us down inch by inch.

I bail water with trembling hands

a mother’s wages

a father’s dues

a child’s tuition

the rent’s rising tide

they are coming to fill our lungs.

The billionaires on the shores scream,

"If you paddle hard enough,

you can outrun the drag!"

Then they laugh amongst themselves

and clink champagne glasses

never shedding a single tear.

The anchor grows heavier

as profits swell

threatening to break us

debt chains every breath

a ledger tallying grief.

Submerged in deadlines

in advertisements,

in stock tickers

a ceaseless demand

the water laps over

cold and unrelenting.

Still, we breathe

resistance as breath

a voice rising against the deep pull,

hands lifting the anchor

if only for moments,

if only til dawn.

Because even dragged as we are,

we are seeds drawn to sun

boats hoping for shore.

And somewhere in that hope

we may learn to drop the anchor

completely

to break the chains that bind.