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Driftwood by Lelia Thomas

I am pale-skinned driftwood
That water’s flooded ten thousand times
Until I’ve lost all sense of direction.
My east is now my west.

You reach for me,
Pull me from the water.
And I know I am broken,
But accept me as I am.

I will be good to you, Fisherman.
Take me in, dry me off;
Make me into what I wish I was.
I can be something beautiful.

You place me before your hearth.
The fire frightens me into silence.
Will you warm me or burn me up,
To finish life in a bed of ash?

I can’t always read you,
But I hope you’ll save me
And pass me down as a keepsake
With stories of my valor.

I see you are lonely, Fisherman.
And I think this land is killing you.
So take me to sea in your father’s boat.
I’ll go anywhere with you.

I will be the fishing rod
Whose spine never breaks;
The knotted carving knife
That fits your hand alone.

You see me for what I am:
Flooded, softened driftwood,
But I am made beautiful,
Because you love me as I am.