Adrift

Adrift in a sea of indecision, indirection, nothing but waves abound.

No sight of land, no rescue ship, not a piece of driftwood found.

 

God, Lord, I float, feeling lost. Destitute, rejected, barren, and alone.

Do I tread or swim? In which direction? to find my way back home?

 

Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, stretching out, time unending.

Still treading, still searching, the distant horizon vast and unrelenting.

 

In answer: a storm rages, fierce, and threatening, fighting, yet adrift only to drown?

Waves crash in thunder and lightning, deafening, blind; fear & exhaustion weighing me down.

 

In the distance espied, a wooden raft, a life-preserver. The familiar I eagerly grasp, claw, and clutch,

Yet this expected, depended, trusted, help is naught but a watery illusion, disintegrating at my touch.

 

I want to cry, “God, are you there? God, do you care? God, do you hear me in this rage filled ocean adrift?”

But I only gasp air. The drifting seaweed of gratitude & praise, providing temporary, momentary lift.

 

Past has taught me the length I enter, remain, and depart is determined by my soul’s attitude.

Difficult to be thankful, grateful, praising, when I question survival amid doubts and faiths incessant elude.

 

Trials and tests: enter and depart; myriad & malleable. Ensconced now in a fight for life.

I swim harder to go nowhere, breathe, the water unrelenting, sharp as the blade of an unforgiving knife.

 

Bruised and crushed, battered and beaten; cut by wind and waves I bleed mingling sweat and tears I leak.

Exhausted, heartbroken, fearful and angry, death weighing me down to depths I no longer seek.

 

The predators circle, hungry, biting and nipping, seeking whom they may devour,

But my help comes from the Lord, my fortress, my hope, my mighty and strong tower.

 

My soul knows you intimately. Knowing your presence when you’re farthest and closest when I feel you least

So I lift arms to tread the next swell, directionless, except heavenward, praying I am not soon fallen as shark feast.

 

The storm dwindles slowly, dawn breaks beautiful, clouds lighten and separate. The sea rolls and swells in its wake.

I am still cast adrift, treading, kicking, swimming, seeking my way out, knowing faith and hope is all at stake.

 

The storm is calm, I am saved. Still adrift, still wondering when and where I will be found.

Difficult to understand, your ways aren’t our ways, your ways not always underfoot as solid ground.

 

Sometimes we have to drift unfriendly, open hostile seas, enduring storms of life seemingly unended,

It is easier to go in, harder to go through, to emerge whole again, if the knee remains un-bended.