Of Man and Sea

Time’s ocean roars up to dawn’s doors and rushes through, its ether hue

Soon splattered with life’s that and this as bit by bit its tides undo

The ties that bind and soft unwind a lonesome ache upon the brake

That bars our feet from bitter-sweetest swells of past’s vast frozen lake

Time’s billows heave and often leave the sojourner of it aghast

At how it spills and deftly fills our sorrow-joys fearless and fast

Before the door to yester-yore, soundless upon the evening air

Swings slowly shut where flesh and blood cannot break through to enter there

The Brigadoon of bygone June may taunt us from its phantom grave

Yet moments swoon and chase high noon across shorelines wave over wave

Where still we spill our sweating will in tears and groans upon its sweep

Without much proof of highs and lows as on it flows from deep to deep

Time’s ocean roars across the shores that held the break of day at bay

As sailors scan horizon-spans for hope to cope with come-what-may

And there it is; unfailing grace from He who cradles faithfully

Within His everlasting hands Time’s sacred span of man and sea

© Janet Martin

What am I looking for? I asked myself as I stared into the slow unveiling of fresh white on the morning, trying to persuade myself that it isn’t so bad. What is it that I am trying to find? I ask again and then it hits me…Hope! Hope for the day and its come-what-may, so I pause and pray. ‘Thank-you God, oh Captain of the Deep guiding our vessels in Thy careful keep.’