by Becky Hunsberger
I
Afloat in this insubstantial frame
That offers shelter, even as it is itself
At the mercy of life’s wind and waves,
We navigate tumultuous waters, searching
For the star that will lead to safe harbor:
A journey towards transformation.
Journey? Or story?
Metaphors abound—each wrapping itself
In bright colors of fabric,
Illuminating—and concealing—
The mystery.
Awe. Wonder. Terror. Delight.
The lines blur: a dazzling cacophony
Of Truth dancing before our eyes
Like lightning in a storm or the flash of a star
As we seek to gaze into the burning center.
II
The only way any of this makes sense—
The only way it comes into focus—
Is when we stop trying to see:
Looking directly into the brilliance
Before us burns our eyes,
Blinding us, binding us,
With the sharp blaze of rationality
That reflects glinting off the foundations
The enlightenment of our Age,
Teasing us with promises of order, safety,
And a sense of self rooted in ourselves—
A self which is really no self at all,
But this ship tossed to and fro by the indifferent sea.
We must step out of the glare,
Turn our eyes from the certainty we seek
To the face of One that we know,
But cannot see. And in that turning,
The wind and the waters shrink down
In perspective allowing us to step
Into our destiny and out of ourselves.
III
The truth told slant is not a lie.
It is a grace, a breath of life
That clears the dust from our vision
Undazzling us, and teaching our blinded eyes
Once more how to see.
Not a journey, nor a story,
But a relationship, an attachment
That starts the moment your Spirit
Overshadowed us, planting the seed
Of Life deep in our being.
The flutters and stirrings seem like nothing,
At first, but the labor pains can’t be ignored.
And like an infant studying in deep innocence
The expressions of his mother’s face,
We study You, learning from You the rhythms
Of grace: joy and rest.
IV
Do not despise the day of small beginnings,
For these stirrings may be the very ripples
That push us out of the boat, allowing us
The courage to engage the waters—insignificant,
Though they tower and storm around us
With a fury that defies description.
When our eyes are clasped on You,
Everything settles
Into proper proportions, and we walk
Across the sea as naturally
As a well told story wrapped
In the brilliant metaphors of faith,
To You, our journey’s beginning
And its only end.
About the Author
Born a Colorado mountain girl, Becky Hunsberger now lives near the English coast. As a teacher without a classroom and introverted homebody turned global leader, Becky tries to make sense of the many paradoxes in her life through her poetry and writing. When she’s not writing or traveling for work, she is often found curled up with a good book and hot cup of tea or taking a wander around the English countryside enjoying the natural beauty that abounds there. You can read more from Becky on her blog The Sojourner.