Author Kingham Page, the Online Writer
What surging magnetism
Draws me to those wind-whipped waves?
Why so powerful the call to sail to the limits
And, occasionally, beyond them?
Hull's lift, stabbing thrust
Of freshly wind-gust empowered cat
Slicing the waters open
Roaring, crashing spray
Almost capsizing.

I need the fight,
Wet wind-slapped face,
Sore muscles.

I polish the hulls for yet more speed
(Past risks insuffice)
Driven deeply to place my body
Closer to the elements
That would claim me.

Is sailing my pilgrimage
Of fright/joy
And the lake
My mother, painfully beautiful
And sweetly, darkly possessive?
Never, in the depths,
Truly contented.
Always harbouring a rising storm
Today - next week -
Is this the source of threat
To which I am drawn?
An addict to the restless power
I so need
But which awakens my fear?

For that wind, those waves, those forces
Are within
Most stormy,
My baptism
Mirrored in each lake storm.
Ross Kingham
© - Stanmore, NSW - 4.2.92

Ross lives in Canberra, Australia. He is the director/administrator of Barnabas Ministries, Inc., which offers ministers of the Gospel a place to pause, refresh their perspective, and renew their acquaintance with God.


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