(9th June 1944 / Cheshire, England)

Holding On

I catch her words and see his fear
As they pass in stolen conversation:

‘I have been trying so hard
To hold on to something.'

But how hold on?

Like the surfcaster to a line strike
Reeling in the arm-wrenching catch
Or the kingfish fighting for the sea?
Like the would-be rescued girl at the outlet rip
Slowly choking her desperate saviour
Or the brave swimmer fighting for the shore?
Or the pony cantering along the sands
Holding a measured gait and steady course
As its rider climbs and toe-grips its bare back?

If the touch becomes too taut
Is there anything to hold on to?

by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Comments (1)

Keith, such an interesting poem...10+++