The Hope Downstream

Travelers in the Sea of Life,
being guided by worry and strife,
floating rudderless toward desperate straights,
drifting aimlessly towards whatever awaits,
are tossed about on stormy waves,
awaiting departure to bottomless graves.

Oh, if only we could leave this ship
and loosen the chains and its horrible grip
of the burdens and sorrows that come with our plight
that's as deep as the ocean and dark as the night.
Who, if any, can save us now?
What can take hold on this vessel and turn its bow?

I hear the waves crashing from side to side,
no place to run to, nowhere to hide
from the fate that lies before us and the turbulent wake behind.
These conditions are causing me to lose my mind.
I hear my heart pounding like an orchestra's drum;
my fears have a power I can't escape from.

Lost, tossed, battered, and beaten,
I lowered my head and prayed for a beacon,
a small light in the night, something to guide this floundering wreck
towards calmer seas, dry land or a speck
of hope in a place where hardly is found
a glimmer of peace, only happiness drowned.

But wait! Can it be?
Is that the lamp of a lighthouse I see,
flickering dimly on this churning water?
Could we actually break free from certain slaughter?
I looked closely at the dim lit light
shining like a small diamond in this hellish night.

I had almost given up without a fight,
given in to the fears of the troubles that might
take away my peace and end my life
cut apart my soul as though with a knife
and bury my hope in darkness and doubt,
sending me into a spiraling spiritual blackout.

Lord, help me remember when all seems lost,
when my ship is battered, shattered, and tossed,
to look for a Light in the stormy sea
and hold tightly to whatever it might be
in the distance, as small as it may seem
and never let go of the hope downstream.