Poetry

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I am near, my child and I hear your cry.
Don't look at the waves, look at me.
This storm was ordained from the beginning
of time. Can't you see it was meant to be

this way? Don't become a slave to phantom
fears but dry your tears. Face the storm
and wait on me. I know you are afraid but
fret not the towering waves. What are they

to me? No wave can tear you from my grasp.
No lightning, no roar of thunder can separate
you from my love. Courage, little one.
Storms aren't meant to last. Though the

timber grinds, the boat creaks, it will not
split asunder. Blind is the fury of this
storm, I know. The winds roar, the rocks
threaten to hurl you onshore, and though your

faith sways on the crest of each pounding wave,
I say to you, 'fear not'. In the darkest hour
of the storm, when all seems lost, I remain.
Look away! Look away from the storm and see

only me. My hand is stretched out now. Take
it till this savage storm is past. Soon I will
steer you into calm waters. Let my strength be
a balm to sooth your weary spirit. And if you

should fall from the boat, my child, I will hold
you up and teach you to walk on water. So fear
not the deep. Cast away despair and keep your eyes
on me. Just as the sails above are being stretched

by the wind, so too is your faith. And every
tempest that comes will stretch it again and again,
yet each can do no more than propel you closer to me.
In the midst of all your storms, when the waves

swell and the winds roar, remember, dear one, what
the storm is for. Abide then in hope. Forget not
that I AM. I am with you in the midst of the storm,
and I will be with you still when the storm is over.

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