A PRESENT FOR THE WAITING HEART

The water is swift, yet gentle,

Flowing from the source

Of the thought arising from a moment—

A thought which, though awaited,

Has taken me unaware,

Shifting my little barque

From the deadness of the shore

Into this current.

The river is clear and sparkling.

The air is wonderfully fresh

As if newly washed with rain.

I am borne quietly rocking

Toward a horizon not noticed before.

My journey’s end, far away yet,

Seems to shimmer with hope.

The sweetness of the promise there

Drifts back across the water.

I breathe in its fragrance

And feed my waiting heart.

Then, with the gracefulness

Of a child slipping into sleep,

The vision melts down the sky into night.

The water beneath my small crafts stills.

I hear only the small, gentle slapping

Of the water against the side of my boat,

And my own breath stirring in the balmy air.

The sky is filled with stars—

Each sheer point of light a reminder,

A memory of the sweetness of hope

At the edge of the horizon—

Floating here, I am at peace and dreaming

Of an unexpected moment

Lighting up the edge of day.

The vision offered to the waiting heart.