The Waves

On the rocks, on the shore, She watches and stands.

She comes so often to this place, to examine the waves.

As a gardener must pluck the weeds, She bends low, using great strength,

trying to separate the plants of great beauty from the choking destroyers, stunting growth.

She begins to see in every way, these waves are the deep well of Her emotions.

As with Her emotions, they rise so high, they withdraw so low.

At once, at times, they rise strong and powerful enough, to cast Her to the rocks, bleeding and helpless.

In the midst of Her bleeding, She remains…remains in awe of their deep power.

Though they could harm Her, or cause Her death in an instant, She cannot help but stare at them and appreciate such passions.

Though the waters are sometimes so dark and so strong, there is a beauty in their strength.

There is a beauty, in being able to bleed, to feel.

They penetrate deeply, they fight the rocks and prove themselves stronger, higher.

They can refresh or ridicule Her, they can be at times corrosive, and at others comforting.

At times, the waters are still and the sun provides dancing light as birds are free from terror to fly about them.

And yet, Lord, She is now broken and bleeding, against the rocks thrown.

You who calmed the waves, rebuke them again now…She is weary and heavy laden, and You say to come.

Control the waves of Her soul as She is unable, and is full of fear.

Bring the demon, one thousand feet taller than Her, to Your subjection, make Her trembling legs strong in the fight.

As You lift Her bruised head, rest it gently against Your breast…give Her rest…whisper to Her,

that “her warfare is ended” and You have made both the calm waves and the fierce…and by Your strength,

You will give Her joy, in the storm.