A Sailorís Choice        

                                     (Dedicated to my friend, Ben)

A book I have read speaks of hope as an anchor. An anchor to me seems so small as it hangs from the side of a ship. I was impressed with the sails as they carry me along to a distant shore. They capture the windís breath and my vessel travels at a steady clip.

I cling to the wheel because with it I control rudder and course. I will ride the storm of life, for I am the captain and I love the salty seas. The ocean has itís currents, and the wind it has such force. I misjudged the power of nature, rudder has damage, and my ship will not go where I please.

It seems that all choice has been stripped away, I feel helpless and doomed to fate. I fall to my knees and watch my tears as they fall upon the planks of wood. As I look ahead I see an island with shore of jagged rocks, ominous and great. I now know how it all will end. I will crash full force against boulders that timeless
stood.

I will hoist full sails, for I will exercise my last choice and my wreckage will be among the greatest in history. Sailors will cast eyes upon the scattered ruin and shake their heads in wonder and disbelief. I will no longer an adventurer be. The observerís thoughts and feelings to me will forever remain a mystery. Will I to them be some kind of hero who bravely laughed at the face of death? Will my passing be a relief?

Other captains will gaze into the eyes of my children, wanting to speak, but no words of comfort will be found. My wife and children will journey on with so many questions left unanswered, with the word "why?" echoing within. A pool of tears lay below my feet. Within this lake of sadness lies a reflection of simple iron craftsmanship that to a chain is bound. Sometimes within hopelessness a voice of reason can be heard. Such a wonderful sound has saved many men.

I now clearly remember those things that truly matter in life: a smile on the face of a friend; the gleam in a childís eye. So many things are precious within my heart. I now have a choice of instant doom, or of joy yet unknown.

With certainty I lower the sails, as above me an eagle does soar, looking down with wisdom as upon grand wings it does fly. My anchor of hope I lower to the ocean floor as my ship slows. Above the masts, a flag of distress is now flown.

I will now rest with the knowledge that no sailor journeys completely unaided. The storms of life are far too great for us to place our confidence only in self. Terrors and fears they come and they go, and when we trust in friendship their power is faded. Hope will be our anchor when we feel we are in peril. Let us cast all our doubts upon a dusty shelf.

© Jeff G. - January 31, 2004


** This is dedicated to a friend who recently contemplated committing suicide, but fortunately refrained from such an act.

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"We each have our own way of living in the world, together we are like a symphony.
Some are the melody, some are the rhythm, some are the harmony
It all blends together, we are like a symphony, and each part is crucial.
We all contribute to the song of life."
...Sondra Williams

We might not always agree; but TOGETHER we will make a difference.

 

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