No Safe Harbor

Drifting is easy, but anchoring is hard.
In either case, safe harbor is denied me.
I drag my shackle round the prison yard.

They say early release could be in the cards
if I learn to keep all the anger inside me.
But I've always shifted freely. Anchoring me is hard

on a sea of sand. Always on my guard
against the free tongue that damned, hands that tied me,
I drag my shackle round the prison yard.

Anyone can claim their voyage was ill-starred.
I can't even blame the cruel eyes that spied me
drifting at ease. They drove my anchors hard

into cold concrete, under windows barred
with black iron crosses on which men have died. Me,
I drag my shackle round the prison yard.

Naked, I bear the jailer's indifferent regard.
These steel walls confine but cannot hide me.
Drifting was easy. Anchoring is hard.
I drag my shackle round the prison yard.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside