This was written as a tribute to a co-worker and friend. She has been my guiding light on my journey to learn about the Lord and acquire the faith that I see in her words and deeds everyday. It's my all-time favorite poem, of those I've written. I hope you enjoy it.


Soaking wet, I fall to the deck and rest my face in my hands.
When I set off on this worldly voyage, I had such mighty plans…..

Casting off in a shiny new vessel, worthy of sailing the seas.
My sails were full and bowing outward, catching every breeze.
Not a care to rock my boat from it's free and easy quest.
Doing whatever came the easiest and whatever I liked the best.

From port to port I navigated, following the stars across the sky.
Tiny storms would cross my path, but I always seemed to come out dry.
An anchor I'd drop at each destination, to hold me safely until the day.
I'd lift the sails and turn my back, continuing on my chosen way.

As the seasons came and passed me by, the waves began to rise.
The stars were getting harder to see, in the clouding of the skies.  
The winds were no longer breezes, but now unceasing perilous gales.
Holes and tears could now be seen, in those once all-powerful sails.

What good were these earthly things, to the choices I had to make.  
My sextant and my compass, I sadly cast into my wake.
I saw myself a lifeless shell, waiting his turn to drown.
Dead by spiritual emptiness, to be lost and never found.

I searched into the darkness for a reason to still hope.
A restless spirit, in a storm, with a tight grip on the rope.
Out of the darkness I saw a light, where on and off took turns.
A beacon reaching into the night, guiding safe returns.

I lowered all my tattered sails, and dropped down to the floor.
Someone else was steering my vessel, calmly to the shore.
I watched in wonder as jagged rocks, smoothed over into sand.
In a glimpse of light I thought, I saw a helpful hand.

I couldn't wait to tell someone about the miracle I had seen.
Somehow I knew it was all so real and not a loner's dream.
In the lighthouse, I found a woman sleeping by herself.
An open bible upon her lap, with a mark at John 8:12.

I read the verse she'd marked and then openly I wept.
For now I knew the truth about the flame that she had kept.
I prayed for his forgiveness, and made a promise on that night.
To stop my restless searching and become a keeper of his light.

[This message has been edited by True Reflections (01-17-2002 03:40 PM).]

copyright2002 Lyra Nesius

"poetry is life distilled"  Gwendolyn Brooks