Thomas Charles Henry

Jetsam

I was foundering.
Caught in his whelm.
He gave the order to jettison.
Trivial things first:
Nice to have, hard to mourn.
I’ve already forgotten what they were.
Those small, inconsequential parts of me.
Significant stock followed,
And so, too: swallowed.
He said, “Compromise keeps us alive.”
But water kept rushing
Over the bow
Pulling me down. 

When ashore I washed,
All saltwater purged,
The last thing I expected to see
Was you,
Standing proud amongst salvaged pieces of me.
Saved from the abyss.
Lovingly curated,
Cleaned, 
Restored. 
More short shipment than complete cargo.
Eager to set sail once more.

Written in response to Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100-word writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Come and play along!