The Pirate Ship
Because I’m still me
frailties plague me
pride lifts me
self-reliance walks me out the plank
of this pirate ship
a ship taken by mutiny
a ship of which I made myself master
a rebellious ship
on its own mission
of larceny and murder
stealing from and murdering hope in God
chaos reigns on deck
I fear the worst
I always fear the worst
all is lost
all the years of traveling and scheming
planning and dreaming
of a place
of a love
of a peace
I contemplate my end
each step out
further from safety
closer to the edge
my toes grasp the edge of this plank
through warped pieces of wood
something catches the light of the setting sun
dull, metallic
thick links hang from the side of the ship
the other end hidden
buried in blackness
but I don’t need to see its two hook-like arms to know
my Anchor has dropped
my Anchor of hope
my mooring in the storm
suddenly jolted
my footing temporarily lost
the Anchor hits bottom
this pirate ship full stop
the true Captain emerges from below
I see the question in His eyes
I make my way off the plank
I study my toes
Facing Him
I raise my arms in salute
I raise my arms in surrender
meeting His eyes
those eyes
gentle eyes
of understanding
of forgiveness
of mercy
of restoration
“O Captain, my Captain”
disregarding my feeble salute
He pulls me to Himself
“My child, be still. All is well.”
MaryBeth Mullin
Copyright 2018
Rooted and Grounded 