I am the star which guides you, my ship, to harbour home.
I am the waves which kiss your bows and urge your timbers moan.
You are the sail which clasps my breath, my song, that makes you yearn.
You are the hull which
holds my dreams yet shoots me through the dawn.
No, I am the star which guides the wise, and bids the end of day.
And I am the waves which cleanse your world and keeps your filth at bay.
You are the sale that clutches my breath, the patter that makes me buy.
You are the rack I
stretch upon that pulls my dreams awry.
But I am the sun and sometimes the moon, depending on the dice.
And I will love whoever comes no matter which way they face.
If it is true, as you do say, that I have been your rack,
I must become the you
I've made and suffer from that lack.
It is no lack to be without what you have always had.
And even now you cannot change the thinking of the stud.
You cannot know, you cannot feel, the centuries of my fear.
But what you must begin
to will is LOVE, not power and war.
For the MeToo campaign