Beauty of ocean stops my breath. Joy
hangs: a cloud before rain.
Tidewater fills footprints with shell shards.
Dawn morphs into sunset. My brain
reworks details: a memory overload.
I’ll be awake when I should sleep.
I don’t always hear melody on beaches.
Yellow leaves in a cool forest chimed
the day I needed to stop on the way home
for milk. I’m not sure if I did.
Rain fell on the path, my clothes,
my purple boots. I sloshed mud into the car.
O Gentle Mother, Star of the Sea,
guide me. Even inland rivers often rage,
become dangerous falls. Rising sun coaxes
memory beyond accuracy. Poetic images
and symbols of faith hint rather than ascend
to God’s throne. In-coming waves make
short-lived pools, erase footprints from sand.
Is erasure like Sacrament—
confessed sins forgiven by a priest? See how
comforting thoughts also mock?
Alpha calls to Omega from beginning to end.
Sacrament calls to Sacrament.
O Holy Mother, let me sail with You to Jesus,
Word of God from the beginning.
Christ the Lord reigns in sea song,
sound of ocean, unseen voice,
keeps His children safe in His Boat
until eternity banishes time.