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The Hope

by Cloe Pickford

 

The ocean can be beautiful,
a shimmering sheet of glass
with seagulls soaring overhead
and seashells on the shore.

 

And yet this peaceful get-a-way
can change into a roaring adversary,
whose torrential rains beat down
mercilessly, with tearing winds.

 

When waves swamp over your head
and you flounder helplessly -
with nothing down below your feet
but unknown fathoms, dark and deep.

 

Yet to my Rock I cling -
His battered hand holds tight to mine.
He holds my head above the waves
and leads me safe to the shore.

 

For He reaches into the deep
and saves those who call to Him.