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By N/A
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Wash waves of wisdom
my way, Lord,

smooth pain, fear, doubt,
to subtler hues

polish me with permission
for new-found joy,

perhaps a change in tide flow.

I remember
when I was a child
my grandmother on the West coast
would mail me
gifts of sea stones
of all colors,
clean-glossed and smoothed
by winds and time and salt
into candy-bright treasures.

I am your oceanside pebble, Lord,
small at your feet
but out of my struggles
with life's decisions and revisions,
my fear of heavy-foot treading
across my heart and others'
and the risk of stinging
the soles of gentle explorers
near me,
comes my request
for the benefit of your
paternal guidance,

I am still a child, Lord
wash waves of wisdom my way.
(c) 2000

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Submitted: Monday, December 16, 2002

Last Updated: Monday, December 16, 2002

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