The shift is a disinterment. I refuse to allow the experiences and challenges I have overcome remain forever buried in a potters’ field marked with a nameless piece of rock. I will call them by name and honor their remains. It is not the bones and ashes that I wish to resurrect but the organic life of hope, courage, faith and surrender they have bequeathed me.
Hope does not cross its fingers. Hope knows its path, the sound of its voice and its eyes are never dimmed. Hope is the migratory scout that finds the food. Hope flies at the point so the other birds can draft.
Deep in my soul there is a river. Its bed runs deep and its banks are wide. The winds may bellow and the rains may fall. The bed is deep and all is still. Deep in my soul there is a river. I call it home, I call it hope. Tonight the deep calls.
About Me
- Beth Chapman
- Owatonna, Minnesota, United States
- I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.
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