Friday, October 6, 2017

Ropes like Anchors

Sometimes I feel like I'm at the end of my rope.
And I can't see the end of all this.

Will it slip through my fingers 
leaving me to drown in these waves of uncertainty?
Tides pulling me down;
My hands tied, pulling me down
As I keep sinking deeper, hand over hand
Tugging at these knots
Only wishing for a knife to cut me loose
From this hangman's noose
I've looped around my neck.
I try to scream but my mouth just fills with water
Or maybe it's just that noose drawing ever tighter
Choking off my lungs.

I'm at the end of my rope.
I've been beat down and strung up;
And it's not just my neck that's being stretched to the breaking point.
It's all of me.

I've been keeping an eye out
For that blonde-haired angel who will shoot me down
But my deus-ex-machina seems nowhere to be found.
Unless he's just sleeping in the prow
Apparently unconcerned with these waves like tsunamis tossing me about.

This tension just won't drain out into the sea of trouble surrounding me.
Not when every wave threatens to overwhelm this fragile vessel.

I've been dragging anchor.
Weighed down by these worries and cares
And my ropes just about played out.
I keep trying to take out the slack
Piling these burdens up on my back.
Trudging across this lake
(Like he wasn't talking to me when he said
"Oh you of little faith")

But my heads already under water.
I can't see the line you've thrown me
When all my focus is on the storm above and below.
Like I don't even know
the one who controls it.
Who at a word can make it all be still.

I can't be still.
So I fumble blindly for that rope you've thrown me
My only hope the grace you've shown me.
You've hooked me
Like a fish on a line.
That line's been used before
But I'm at the end of my rope
And these lines are metaphors.

For all of you who've been here before.
Drowning in doubt,
Tossed about in an ocean of insecurity
With no way out.

For when you're at the end of your rope
Hanging on tightly but giving up hope.
When you've taken up arms against a sea of troubles
Only to have failed.
Washed out and washed up on shore
Like the man vomitted from the belly of the whale.

Remember this: He who controls the storms and the seas sees you.
And though He may seem to be asleep he hears
You are not alone.

Maybe there's something symbolic in writing a poem about being at my wits
End and not even being able to finish it.
Like the waves washing over my head
Have so blurred my lens that my entire perspective is blurred.
I'm sure there's some truly fairy tail worthy, uplifting ending to this.
Uplifted by a Lifesaver sent by some greater hand
(The wind and the waves are at His command)

But I don't see it.
So I'll just sink beneath the waves,
Wondering what I could have done different.
As the light fades,
Maybe I could have been more efficient.
But my ropes run out and my poems all used up.
Guess I'll just drink of the salt water that's filled my cup.

Actually this was all written by Phil