Photo Credit: ©Christine Matthäi
We leave all sins behind
in the pilgrimage.
We know it's not our land anymore.
We cross a sea of dangers:
storms of unkindness and conflict,
thirsts of unquenchable days,
starvings of empty horizons.
Missing things, missing things
we don't understand.
We stare at the surface of our sea --
our survival reddens there,
the wave-lap turns to water.
It is water that we need, the wave we fear;
and the lime of tender lips
on the steady deck, we need.
Keep watch -- there is no turning back;
we've sailed straight out for weeks,
thrown ourselves into the blue
arms of a kindly stranger.
Our unbelief will crash on the rocks,
our lack of faith will drown in foamy chaos,
our hopelessness will starve,
and we will walk the shore as we have left.