I paddled the river of sorrow
with a voyager's brave heart,
for I always knew I'd emerge
from the rapids and find
a kinder, gentler way.
I set my compass to True North
and followed the Map of Believing,
for Hope was the name of my craft,
and Trust was the journey.
There came a turning
where some voyagers choose
the Fork of No Return.
It descends to the lower depths,
travelers stuck forever
in the swirling eddy
of pain and regret.
I took the sunnier fork,
with the blue sky above me.
Small birds flew ahead, circled back
to encourage. Their song led me forth.
I met fellow believers. We smiled
and we sang as we paddled.
We were now on the
River of All We Could Be
and the time was all morning.
The passage was swift and
it taught me the joy of the journey;
amazement, reverence, humility
as the river gave me its gifts.
It is eventide now, and my paddle
has slowed for my arms
have grown tired. Content to drift,
I'm at peace in the Stream of Reflection.
In the Estuary of Gratitude,
I give thanks for all miracles and wonder.
When it's time, my craft
will slip softly away from its moorings
and I'll paddle off to the stars.
My word from Elizabeth was Sorrow.