in restless waves
on Gitche Gumee's southern side.
Somehow, I identify
with heavy sighing.
But still, looking long and up
I see a large horizon
deep waters fading blue,
reaching up to touch the morning sky.
And in my sighings,
hope's arising. . .
Just in time to whisper,
"All is well. Peace be still."
-----------------
I wrote this poem on a windy day, as I peered out the hospital waiting room window overlooking the shore of Gitche Gumee (Lake Superior), and noticed angry waves crashing violently on the shore.
The troubled waters matched my anxious spirit, as, heavy-hearted, I awaited news from the operating room. But then, lifting my eyes towards the distant horizon, I observed Superior's serenity from the larger perspective.
Photo Credit: Wes Wilson
on Gitche Gumee's southern side.
Somehow, I identify
with heavy sighing.
But still, looking long and up
I see a large horizon
deep waters fading blue,
reaching up to touch the morning sky.
And in my sighings,
hope's arising. . .
Just in time to whisper,
"All is well. Peace be still."
-----------------
I wrote this poem on a windy day, as I peered out the hospital waiting room window overlooking the shore of Gitche Gumee (Lake Superior), and noticed angry waves crashing violently on the shore.
The troubled waters matched my anxious spirit, as, heavy-hearted, I awaited news from the operating room. But then, lifting my eyes towards the distant horizon, I observed Superior's serenity from the larger perspective.
Photo Credit: Wes Wilson
