4 minute read
I rarely write poems. But, for some reason, a few years ago I wrote this.
I was in a season when a two-word phrase from the Bible kept ringing in my ears.
Maybe those two words will be helpful for you today…
(Note: In real life, I’ve never gone to sea in a ship… and I don’t come from seafaring stock… but I sure like that imagery.)
Two Words
I shuffled slowly up the gang,
As crewman yelled and spat and sang.
My head stayed low, my eyes turned down,
Them: men of sea, I: boy from town.
Yet up the massive plank I strode,
Oh scared as hell! I hummed an ode
To courage and the sticking place,
To staring death right in the face.
A song my father’s father’d sung
Before upon a ship he’d flung
His all, his fortune and his life,
To chase the battle, vie for strife,
To sail upon the savage sea,
To turn his back upon the lee.
And mumbled I two words that he
Had taught me to with force decree
Two words which evermore would be
The strength of him, the strength of me.
No soft and plush divan for Pap,
A life of ease was just a trap,
Ol’ Scratch’s plan to take his soul,
The vicar should just sound the toll
Of death for Pap would live no more
Constrained to safety till the hoar
Had fallen on his blackened locks.
“Fit me, ‘stead, for death’s pine box.”
And so for that good reason he,
Went sailing on the Northern Sea.
He chased down whales and threw harpoons,
While singing happy, lilting tunes
Of joy to be away from land,
And comfort’s suffocating hand.
Pap thought himself as mighty blessed
To weather storms inside the nest
Atop a shaking, howling main,
Mere inches from the lightning skein.
And when the deck would roll and pitch,
He’d calmly rock and tie a hitch
As fine as if his feet were sure,
Stood still upon a rock secure.
For nothing made his blood so rush
As when a mate would gasp and gush
“We’re closing on a mighty squall!”
Oh this is what would so enthrall
My Pap and give him such a grin.
(That and the rain upon his skin.)
Those men who’d been upon the waves
For many years—as tough as staves—
Took sight of Pap and said aloud:
“Now that’s a man the Lord is proud
to call his son, yes, ev’ry inch,
A man who does not groan or flinch!
A son o’ gun who won’t evade,
The destiny to which he’s bade.
Were we as him, as sharp as flint,
With naught so close as e’en a hint
Of fear or doubt or shrinking neck,
How well we’d stand upon the deck,
And straighten up and face our fates
As captains, bosuns, swabs and mates.
Oh Father God, do grant us grace
To, like this man, so firmly brace
Our all against Thy mighty arms
And fall not back from threat’ning harms!”
For, Pap, he lived his days in strength,
And fought not for a life of length.
The men they did admire such nerve,
For from death’s scythe he’d hardly swerve.
But Pap, he lived not just for him,
He had a drive to help and trim
The cravenness from other souls,
So as the ship made banks and rolls
He’d find a worried sailor man
And, playful as the storied Pan,
He’d jump behind the frightened one
(Now jarred and certainly more dun)
And grip his arm and lean in close
And give him just a simple dose
Of what the young man needed said—
Two words to roll around his head.
Two words which did succinctly say,
“Trust not your strength, nor on it lay
Your faith! For just how much have ye,
But less so than the Lord! It’s He
Who knows the storm and all its might,
Who knows if it shall last all night,
Or die down now with just a sigh.
Press into He who lives on high,
Not you nor I who live so low,
Down here on earth’s beveiled tableau.”
And yet He said this straight and quick.
Two words designed to surely stick
In his and other’s minds ‘til death,
Spoke out with sharp and piercing breath.
And if said words would find their root
In that scared sailor—hat to boot—
He’d lose the sight of blus’tring gale
And rather trim his inner sail
To something far beyond the boat
That thing upon which oceans float.
So when the winds would scream and kick,
And when the rains would fall so thick
One couldn’t spy his own right hand
And wish he’d never left the land,
He’d try to calm himself until
My Pap would come about and drill
Those two words in the sailor’s ear,
The words heard past, yet silenced fear,
If taken in yet once again,
And acted out as an amen,
They’d sturdy any shaky boy,
(Perhaps to even bring him joy)
And stand him strong within the gust,
For nothing steadies quite like trust.
For fifteen years and seven more,
My granddad kept afar from shore
Until one morn’, asleep, a-bunk,
And sober, yes, he was not drunk!
Dear Jesus whispered down to him,
“You’ve done quite well, you’ve shown thy vim.
Yet now I have a call for you,
A fresh, but slightly bitter brew.
I know you crave and love the sea
(Its virtues, with you, I agree!).
But now I call you to the land—
It’s part of all for you I’ve planned.
As I told Adam near the Tree,
‘‘Tis just not good for man to be
alone for all his live-long life
And so I’m bringing thee thy wife.’
I say the same to you, my friend,
Yet perish not to think the end
Of living life by faith, has come,
I lead you not to lot humdrum.
Adventure calls you still, so know,
Yours shall not be a life of woe.
Your days at sea were lively ‘cause
Your faith was placed in me. It was!
Not just because you sailed the swell,
Evading Lloyd’s Lutine death bell.
What happened there can happen, too,
On land. I promise thee, tis true!
So hasten, boy, to find a port,
Your doubts do not a moment court.”
And so it was that grand dad Pap
Rolled up his treasured, weathered map
And stepped his foot upon the earth,
Leaving back his brackish berth.
And met he, soon, my grammy Jane,
Half-Scot, half-Norse and half a Dane.
And shortly after that but came
My father born with hair aflame!
These three, this fam, they formed a crew
What sailed upon that ocean blue,
Yet never in a boat or ship,
They stayed within land’s earthy grip.
But oh the lives they well did lead!
Such lives which ever did exceed
The life my Pap had off the shore,
(Yet this time no one manned an oar).
They dared to live their lives by faith,
They stood stock still against the wraith
Which comes in many diff’rent forms
Not just within some lit’ral storms.
They fought to live out on the edge.
And shrunk they not, from danger’s ledge.
Now here I am, my Pappy’s one
And only son of his own son
And dare I now to strike on out
And see what life can be about.
So walk I here, up on this plank,
My Pap’s brave constitution thanked
Inside my heart. I sing his song,
The one he sang his whole life long.
And tell myself the words he’d taught
Me when the fears inside me wrought
A curving in my inward part
And quailed my flutt’ring, nervous heart,
The words he’d spoken o’er and o’er,
Throughout life’s endless, bloody war.
“Ahoy, there, lad! What’s wrong wit’ you?”
An old salt dog asked, eyes askew.
“You’ve no sea legs! You’ve bony arms!
You’ve no rough hands!” he said, alarmed.
“You young land lubbers make me sick!
I wish ye’d disembark—and quick!”
I watched him gather spit and bile
Behind a crooked, toothless smile,
He wanted, then, to spew at me—
Until I let him truly see
The man I am—my Pappy’s boy
A man whom which no man will toy.
I know full well I’m young and soft
And of me it’s been spoken, of’t,
A less than able seamen would
I be, if on a boat I should
Be e’er allowed. Not lined or tan,
my face is white and smooth and wan.
But this have I within my veins:
The words locked deep within my brains,
The words my grand dad spoke so well,
The words which saved his soul from hell.
And so I stop the old dog’s blast
And back him up against the mast
By speaking words—my Pappy’s last—
That echo back up from the past,
The words which shall us all outlast—
Those words which are but unsurpassed:
Hold fast! Hold fast! Hold fast!
*****
Love the Lord your God, walk in obedience to him, keep his commands, hold fast to him and serve him with all your heart and with all your soul.”
-Joshua 22:5
So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the teachings we passed on to you, whether by word of mouth or by letter.
-2 Thessalonians 2:15