He Was the Anchor, He Was the Storm

An anadiplosis poem

Photo by Wallace Chuck

He was the anchor that dug
deep in the sea,
He was the sea split in heat
by a volcanic wake,
He was the volcano that
sung us songs and lullabies —
he was the lullaby that cradled
our memories beneath a storm
He was the storm with a
calm third eye,
He was the third eye that
Knew all our hearts,
He was our heart
pinned beneath the sea
by an anchor that will never
let go

Here I am exploring what my father meant to me in an anadiplosis kind of poem. I think this poetic technique suits the emotions and the memory of the man who raised me and my sister. He was not only calm and wise, but strict, firm, and always a protector of us.

Thank you for reading!