Bog Oak

Photo by Dynamic Wang on Unsplash

I lie in the water,
as still as a bog oak,
my skin broken and brown,
under the weight of ages passed,
part wooden, part stone,
saturated and silence,
unable to speak.

I am held
on the edge of abandon,
caught between doubt 
and love,
the tease of delight
so strong I can almost taste it,
but held like a carrot 
in front of a donkey,
always marching, never eating.

©️ Emma Steel