Light Has Come

The wood of the floor is rough and unsanded. 
It's dark out so I can't see the floor too well.
But I can feel it by the splinters in my feet.

There is no moon because it is not yet night.
And I cannot see the sun.
For the thick clouds cover every light source available.

Every now and again the wood floors are visible when lightning strikes
And the water that makes them slick
Reflects the light up and down the deck.

But I still don't see the floors because I'm sprinting across the deck
Hauling and tying, loosing and screaming
But I can still feel the splinters in my feet.


He was sleeping.
The storm did not disturb him. 
Thunder snarled to send chills through our bones
And he did not turn over in his sleep.

We woke him with the presumption that he did not know of the storm.
Yet the clouds were under his command.

Be still.
The wind was quiet.
The water was calm.
And the wood reflected light from the moon.

The storm was gone and was not coming back.
For the one by which it was tamed knew it was nothing to fear.

And the one who did not fear it,
Asked me why I did.

But I was still amazed that I no longer felt the splinters in my feet.

This piece was created for a collaborative arts narrative called Lights In the Dark, which took place at City Fellowship in March. This was the poem I read during the show. When I returned home from school I decided that I wanted to give it to my dad. The theme of the piece is that the light has come and darkness cannot overcome it. My father is the person I think of most when I think of someone who, even when facing darkness, always has faith that the light will overcome it. He teaches me to keep faith, even in tough and confusing times. He so readily and willingly trusts in the Lord's goodness and love in ways I have a hard time fully understanding. I am so thankful for a father that sets such an example as this. I can't think of anyone I would rather dedicate this to than him.

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