Midst

There is no storm just now;
Yet I am between two poles
And, like the compass magnet,
Cannot find a true direction

In the middle and cut off, I
Drift alone—the sun is bright
Though I feel no thirst, no
Longer any hunger, either

I am alone—I don’t know
What happened to the crew—
No storm now and yet I feel
I am only between one

Tempest and another, that
One will come to overturn my
My unsteady craft; so how
Does the Latino saying go?

Your sea is so great, and my
Boat is so small—for the time,
And but for swelling waves,
There is no current bearing

Me away: yet I believe I am
In the midst of all, awaiting
What happens, what catches—
Compelling, never planned