Destinations

I've never really understood poetry.  Seems to me it is a rather complicated literary form and most of what I read today doesn't make much sense. I subscribe to an e-mail service that delivers a "Poem of the Day" to my inbox.  Guess I may learn something, but I'm afraid at my age it is probably too little too late.

Reflecting back on freshman composition class at Carson-Newman I remember we had to pen a few lines of poetry as part of the learning process.  After working on that assignment for about a week with some of my best and most inspirational thoughts, I turned in my "poetic masterpiece."   My instructor, Miss Henrietta Jenkins, brought it clearly to my attention ( with her red pencil) that I did not have much talent for writing poetry.  Despite her harsh critique of my poetic talent,  I loved Miss Jenkins anyway and took her for British Literature the next year.  In my adult years, living back in Jefferson City, Miss Jenkins became a good friend and role model.

Despite my less than stellar experience with trying to write poetry,  there are times when you still want to put words down that rhyme or at least fall into some sort of short verse.  That is what I've done this week. 

The older I get it seems I ponder more of the unanswerable questions of life.  These few lines of verse "fell out of my head" as I approached a recent birthday and touch a bit on those things that I've been pondering that are linked to faith, not fact.

Walking along a river under a blue November sky

Floating leaves of red and gold swirl so quickly by

Riding gravity’s downward flow, bouncing to and fro

Scurrying toward a destination they cannot possibly know.

 

Again I walk along a river under a gray December sky

The leaves are gone, but icy twigs float and bob nearby.

The water’s flow has lessened, grasped by winter’s icy brakes

Slowing briefly, continuing the journey, no matter where it takes.

 

Three score and ten I’ve walked along this river under God’s expansive sky

First it was my children, now its grand children that swirl so quickly by.

I ride the inevitable current of aging; it has such a powerful flow

But unlike the leaves and twigs, there is a destination that I know.

 

Sometimes I wonder what the days of winter hold for me,

Times of testing; times for resting; times with grand kids on my knee.

Like the icy waters of winter, I’m not as fast as I used to be,

But there's no doubt about my destination; that’s assured by God’s grace you see.

 

So as you walk your own river path, in any season of life,

Pulled to and fro by life’s currents, pondering the great question of life,

Put your hope in Jesus, master boatman and anchor supreme

He will steer you clear of danger and bring you home for all eternity.