The Hook

In 2006 I wrote a little poem called ”The Hook”. Amid all the frenzied activity of my life the lure of the Woman never escaped me. I felt like a little fish who had been caught in the ocean who seemed endlessly waiting to be reeled in and landed.

I am merely a fish swimming round in the deep, endlessly, aimlessly, swimming.

I have a big hook, which is caught in my mouth, but the fisherman’s reel keeps on spinning.

He pulls me toward him from time to time, and then casts me further towards sea. He seems to enjoy the game he is playing, but it sure is no fun for me.

I am captive, imprisoned in the fisherman’s snare, and am weary from swimming in circles.  I cannot be landed and naturally die, and living now has all its restrictions.

The hook is so strong and the line will not break, it is made of superior stuff. For such a poor little fish so alone and afraid, I’ve been a long time doing it tough.

All the other fish I see swimming ‘round me are following their natural pursuits, they cannot understand why I’m not fancy free, and joining their schools en route.

I tug and I churn, I thrash and lie still, but it is all to no avail, till the fisherman wills to bring me timely on board, and then we can both set sail.

What plans will he have for me on shore, will I wind up as meat on a plate? Will I be a prize catch with honours in store, or fed to the sharks for bait?

I must not worry too much about fate, as I’m resigned to my future plight. Because the hook is a constant reminder of the cause I’ll be landed to fight!