To Be Free
For the last time the soles of his shoes
Slipped and slid down the narrow,
Rocky path to the desolate beach.
The boat he was expecting was late.
Flocks of whitecaps seemed to reach
From the near shore to the horizon. Dark
Clouds hung over the middle of the bay,
And sheets of rain, like the smooth bark
Of a beech tree, fell straight and true.
The feeling of being on his own, with
No one to answer to, was entirely new,
And though he had yearned for it madly,
Now he wasn’t so sure. To be free
Was his aim. But if things went badly,
He’d have only himself to blame.