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The Barnacle

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I’m a barnacle,
Clinging to the hull of a boat called Life,
Stuck fast just below the surface,
Out of sight,
Except to the creatures of the sea
And the occasional overzealous submariner.
Sharp as a politician’s tongue,
Hard as the pills we’re made to swallow.
That’s my protection.
Beneath that crusty outer shell,
I live a quiet life,
Content to let the world roll by.
I’ve weathered raging storms,
Drifted through the doldrums
And ridden out the siroccos.
I’ve raised a few little barnacles
And held my place against the tide.
I’ve never needed a God,
Just trusted what comes naturally,
Held on tight and got on with living.
I’m afraid of nothing,
Not the storms,
Not the darkness,
Not even the passing of time.
There’s just one thing
That makes this old barnacle tremble…
The Dry Dock.

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