Retreat Poem

One of my last days of retreat I woke up early to a foggy morning. I went out to the ocean which I could see but could not hear. Then, through the foggy mist I saw that even in that weather, there were men standing out on the rocks fishing. This poem came to me and captures the movement of God in my life those days and always.

God is there
in the glimmering of the morning sun
dancing on the water.

You can catch a glimpse
as the monarch soars and flutters
out and beyond
daring your eye to follow.

God is in the celebrations,
the doing of good work
and works --
after all, God said it was good.
And so we are.

But at the stormy times
in the fog, mist and darkness that will come
it is tempting to forget.

On that foggy morning when eyes see nothing
but blinding white
you can hear the waves -- still there;
and the singing of the birds telling the good news
to those with ears to hear.

Like the fishermen
standing on the rocks in the blinding mist
seeking with the eyes of faith.

No comments: