The lights are low
aligned with thoughts
of swimming free,
a simple fish
swimming toward light,
suddenly caught
now distraught;
facing a tightening thread.
lifted alight and set right
on the trawler’s deck,
only to face slaughter.
Low thoughts, indeed,
in an ocean of democraseas.
“if onlys” abound
as I flutter and flounder
and flap atop the heap
of fish so like me.
Unsure of success
I push fear aside
propelling my self
over the side,
carried away on the tide
of endless seas of hope.
I am free!
I am free!
annarino writes 