|MMS (Google Images)|
The bow of a great ship cuts through the waves
As distant shores recede.
A plume of smoke
Heralds the appearance of a cutter,
Her Majesty’s royal navy approaches
To relieve me of my gain,
Ill-gotten though it may be.
The swelling tide resolves into clear blue sky
And I take to the air,
The controls of the biplane jammed between my knees.
The Baron hovers at my left
Ready to blow my wooden craft to splinters.
His mirthless smile fades
As I barrel roll right
To live, and to conquer, some other day.
I gently land upon a grassy field
Where timeworn hovels circle round.
The steed is now with mane and hoof possessed
And calmly waits outside a door.
Inside, a gentle damsel, in clean though tattered dress,
Receives a heartfelt plea.
The lord of the manor woos a peasant girl,
Love knows no class, no man-made boundary.
Then, transported once again,
I stand before a stern-faced judge
To plead a case.
Life or death is his to command, and mine to stay.
Words flow like molten glass:
Suggesting, explaining, convincing,
As twelve solemn souls reflect
On my eloquent logic and undeniable wisdom.
The roof opens, revealing starry heavens,
As I soar away to strange planets and distant moons.
A universe invites my curiosity, challenges my understanding,
And stretches my imagination.
Who could invent such creatures? Or such creations?
Nevertheless, I will follow,
Willing crew in an improbable starship
On an impossible voyage.
The Milky Way becomes a human tide
Of people broken and in pain.
Masked and gowned, I
Bend to their needs, bow to their grief,
And batter at the gates of disease and death.
They do not relent
But defeat me in the end:
Though not forever.
For at last, not limited by human imagination,
I am liberated by Divine Truth,
And see myself as I truly am;
The “before” and “after,” sovereignly crafted,
Still in the state of becoming
The completed work upon which He writes.
Here, I am the true heroine and he, my Knight.
The sequel is yet to come, the end already revealed.
From where I sit
There are no limitations, boundaries, or walls.
Only here is it possible to become
A pirate sailing in the Spanish Main,
Or a pilot facing some mortal foe in a brutal war.
From where I sit, I am transformed,
Becoming that gentle lass
With her noble lover on bended knee.
From prosecutor at the bar, to pursuer of the heavens,
Changing to healing hands with noble cause,
Then, wonderfully, renewed by Grace’s words.
Hear me now, and see my joy.
Feel my satisfaction and sense within me,
The delight which is only found
Here, where I sit, as I read
From the pages of a book.