A Paper Boat's Anchor

By Carla Candappa

A Paper Boat's Anchor is an ongoing story. A compilation of deeply authentic musings concerning the highs and lows of mental health, breaking complex cycles and living difficult, necessary lessons.

It comments on love and its partner: loss, capturing conflict of joy accompanied with adversity, it challenges and comforts. It leaves one almost painfully aware, yet hopeful. It does not tell of an ultimate overcome-

it simply continues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Sep 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685835118

Book preview

Part 1

Interpretations

I’m not entirely sure what poetry is,

a collection of words that resonate,

transcend, inspire?

Pretty or sometimes ugly words that move.

Words are almost painfully curious,

there is always the potential to move, to create

to shape,

yet there is always a choice.

Words are not always read how they are intended.

this can be devastating,

but equally extraordinary.

Weightless thoughts 

Sometimes thoughts are simply thoughts,

projections from the world’s already broken beliefs.

We cannot be reduced to our mind’s catastrophic drifting,

a ship travels unchecked without its captain.

Thoughts do not define; they do not carry that power over you.

Steer?

Anchor them.

Extinguished 

Tonight, you couldn’t even meet my eyes

unspoken words between two flames-

who were once promised an infinite inferno

hung heavily.

Tonight, the silence blazed brighter.

and oh,

it burned.

Before I saw you, I felt the familiar fractures begin.

I can recognise the hopeless panic for what it truly is now.

After, as I cradled my own body whispering worn out consolations,

I’ve got you

I wondered how many more times

will I do this alone?

Yet alone, I let myself shatter not suppress.

and alone I reached for the laptop not the blade.

Alone, I harbour and hone those unspoken nothings.

Alone again,

I heal.

Remnants

the material is course and thick.

slightly shaky hands trace her uniform lightly,

she doesn’t need to press hard

to feel them.

a close friend’s horrified stare

they’re bad

she shrugs it off

but a small sneeze, and they pulse in pain.

a light gentle touch

an old lover’s caress,

they’re beautiful, he tries.

but she winces in the mirror

she flinches in seemingly insignificant moments of the day

because they’re always there.

a constant reminder of the place she was imprisoned in

when they first begun to map her body,

claiming the softest parts of her.

an unrelenting itch

a burn

the knowledge that if nothing else lasts,

they will…

often, she wonders when they’ll fade

they have to?

they will.

Survivor's guilt

Creases line their faces

in worry

in pain.

As they look to me

I wish I could erase it.

ease it,

make them forget.

I never wanted them to hurt.

The care they offer,

morphs into pressure.

How much longer?

Hold on.

I’m trying.

a cycle broken

It is rare for forgiveness to coexist with