lakeside rejoicing

The waves beat rhythms against the sand in repeating patterns

more than one would expect from a lake 

that is so often glassy and silent. 

Motorized boats for tourist amusement 

or local fisherman at work 

move around the islands at varying speeds 

surrounded by the much smaller wooden dugout canoes 

and kayaks moved by paddles and arm power. 

The air is thick with moisture 

the sweet scent of frangipane blossoms. 

Here, both on the beach and inland, the pace is slow.  

The visitors seem to always have time 

for another beer, another cigarette.  

The only rush I sense 

is how fast people seem to be running 

away from their lives. 

We come here and find God’s glory 

tropical beauty, painted skies.  

We rise early to dive into His word as the sun rises hot

then we cool our fevered skin in the waves.  

From rooms next to us others emerge eyes blurry 

staggering, looking far too rough for coffee to cure.  

They never make it any farther than the bar 

or a lounge chair where collapsing

with no appearance of happiness 

they begin another day of nothingness.  

Another beer.  Another cigarette.  

Laughter loud, echoing falsely.

Some are passing through

others have made this place their home

living off the profits of tourist trade. 

In the shadow of their lost lives

we walk, we swim, and we feast on local fish.  

I open my senses to reel in all that I can contain

ever aware of this vitality

this wanting to be awake and alive.

It was not that long ago 

that I too sought and savoured the numbness. 

So this day my heart and spirit rejoice 

whispering, singing, shouting with thanksgiving. 

What wondrous redeeming grace.