-- The Deep --

Frigid as the northeastern winds in this winter season
Is the cry that rings from atop this tattered raft
Drifting in mid ocean.
Victimized by the tossing waves of violent storm
This weary, battered sailor has barely survived the shipwreck.
I now cry out in the frozen darkness, searching for a shore
Any sliver of land that will grant me rest and safety.
The moon illuminates the watery trail as a beacon in the night
While I drift in an unknown direction.
From where will hope arrive?
I will just wait for rescue to come.
At long last dry ground comes into view
And I land upon Your tropical shore.
Soothing waves wash over my battered body
The warm fingers of the sun caress my face and wavy hair
As mommy and daddy used to do when I needed comfort as a child.
Soft blue horizons silently remind me that life is linear
And continues to stretch ever forward at an unbroken pace.
The gentle breeze speaks Your name
And attests to the truth that the invisible exists.
The sound of the surf reminds me You are ever present and reliable.
As days and nights fall by me, each new sunrise quietly shouts
That the days come just one at a time tomorrow cannot be rushed.
Surprising how I have faltered during my journey
Wondering if I would ever see land or find the pathway home.
This place is exquisite, bringing me my forgotten ways.
Peace, which has been such a stranger, visits me once again.

Standing upon Your shore, home is now in sight
And I will make it.


Copyright January 11, 2000 to present, by Deborah McGeorge, St. Augustine, Florida


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