Saturday, March 31, 2012

a small sail on a roiling ocean

under this chilly gray sky

it's either too far from shore and doomed

or more than half way to where it's going

I picture myself on that little boat

without my face or identity

just some voyager moving on

to where God only knows

then the sail disappears on the horizon line

and I turn from the shore

and face the roiling ocean of gray sky

that swamps me in its vastness

with no Shining Light stepping across those waves

to rescue me

that is left to me to do

to be my own Imitation of the Savior

to pull myself up the rope of

some Jacob's Ladder I found

as a wave of clouds pounded down

and turned me inward to see that line...

now where the relief of a salvation?

where the strength to haul myself up?

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito.

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