"Where
the Clouds Fade Away to Sunlight"
Where the clouds fade away
to sunlight,
Islands, sandbars, and
lighthouses are scattered along the horizon,
The ferry is crowded but in
a pleasant sort of way,
Giving a feeling of
fellowship to this one special day.
The vessel floats up and
down in time to the waves,
The sea foam outlines it on
the surface like the finest white lace,
Anchors, portals, and an
old fashioned helm,
Are like the remnants of
the memory of the nautical past.
The breezes shift from warm
to cool.
Should we stay out or go
below decks?
Again and again the waves
murmur and foam,
Perhaps it is from all over
the world they have roamed.
Although after a time they
all look the same,
Each one is unique and adds
a whisper of its own.
Meanwhile the captain with
a voice loud over the mic,
Tells us about the sights
and islands and past.
Although what he says is
intriguing to me,
It is only in that the
sound of the language he speaks.
I cannot understand the
German words,
I cannot decipher the
message they carry.
It's odd to think that the
words I understand best,
Are those that the waves
whisper and murmur to me.
- ~ Inspired
by the ferry ride to Hallig Langeness, Germany
En Gammal
Kyrkstad
The weather was
brisk and rainy.
My Converse were
getting cold and damp,
And the
rainwater was running down my jacket sleeves and into my coat pockets.
I thought I
could keep my hands dry that way,
But I guess not.
I shake the
water off my hands in slight irritation.
I continue on up
the pathway with the gravel crunching beneath my footsteps.
Occasionally I
would see a sign telling me where I was going or what I was looking at.
Some words I
still don’t understand
for Swedish is
still rather new to me,
But one word I
thought I could decipher was ‘kyrkstad’ – ‘churchyard’ maybe?
I took the path
the sign pointed to
And hoped that
my translation was right.
I hoped to find
a little old church tucked up there with the other historical buildings.
But when I got
to the top I found the opposite of what I anticipated.
Instead of a
little country church building,
I found a little
clearing,
With only signs
and plaques and an old foundation to mark what once had been there.
As I stepped
through the space in the wall and entered the clearing,
I felt also like
I was stepping through a space into another time.
To the right I
had a grand view of Lake Vättern and the hills behind it.
Hovering over it
was a translucent cloud of fog,
Giving the
atmosphere an even more haunting feel.
It is hard to
explain but I also felt a tug inside,
As if the ‘mists
of time’ floating there were beckoning me to step forward and to thus step
back.
I climbed some
dilapidated stairs that were near the outer wall.
From there I
could also see a bit of Jönköping itself and the soccer stadium below.
Although the
stadium may not have been brand new,
It still helped
to illustrate the passing of the years and the age we live in.
For a moment I
also stepped back as I looked forward and noticed Sofia kyrka.
Her tall and
proud steeple was standing out from amongst the other buildings,
Making her
presence prominent along the city’s skyline.
The rain began
to fall heavier and faster,
My thoughts came
along with it in a similar manner.
I wondered if that
tall and proud building missed seeing her little sister church here.
Missed seeing
her little steeple come alight as the morning sun came up from across the lake,
And then seeing
her silhouette as it then sank behind the hill she once stood upon.
I stood there
for a moment more and gave one more look through the mist and fog,
And then turned
to explore through the old foundation I came to see.
Aside from a
plaque that stood to the side,
There wasn’t much
else to see as I walked around.
From the stone
outline in the ground I could only guess as to how the building once looked,
How it was set
up and how it was arranged to be,
And what the
people were like who once came up here to gather in fellowship.
But now it was
just a curious passer-bye who wandered up there,
All by herself
and wondering whatever became of those who were once here.
My feelings were
rather melancholy,
As I thought
about what once may have been.
It didn’t help
as my shoes got wetter and the grass clippings began clinging to them.
But then I
suddenly a thought hit me like a cold but refreshing gust of wind to the face.
I thought how
fitting it actually was that if this church was to go down that its foundation
remained,
For in the end
the Foundation of all churches is what truly matters and leaves the mark.
The buildings
may fade but the Church is never really gone is it?
I stepped back
over the threshold in the wall,
And stepped back
into the day of routines and tasks.
As I made my way
back into the neighborhood that was now comfortingly familiar to me,
The rain came
even faster and made the branches above me sing with the light hum of the
pattering drops.
At that moment
the clouds also began to break slightly and some faint rays of sunlight came
through.
The raindrops
lit up as the golden light and colors shown with a new mystical sheen in the
sky,
And I was
reminded of a promise and knew I carried the Foundation away with me too.
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