HOLD THE HELM
Fear, pride and joy filled my being
I was only eight when my father said;
Come here and stand on this box,
I will show you how to steer
whilst I check the machines below.
The trawler was huge, how could he trust,
a little girl standing on a box?
I trusted him, but fear was putting up a fight;
Sure I can’t do this, look at the waves,
the enormous rolling waves.
Still, I listened to his instructions, drank them in;
Repeated the beacon to hold in sight.
Excitement and joy overtook me for a while
as the boat did obey my hands on the mighty wheel;
I could hardly believe; My pride grew miles.
Suddenly the vessel was shifted by waves,
my mark disappeared to the right,
Fearful I managed to steer back on course,
took a deep sigh but tension replaced trust.
Another big wave threw me off course;
Now the marker was to the left,
desperately I steered straight again,
I am afraid we wove a wavering path.
When finally, to my relief, my father came back
I was quick to relinquish the helm.
We turned our heads and looked at the path,
the swirling trail behind.
The path I had steered the ship, with my hands.
He smiled and gave me a hug.
You tried so hard but didn’t know how to trust,
the wave would bring you straight back,
Besides, I was always there and felt every move.
Keep your eyes steady on your goal
but relax as well
don’t forget to trust yourself,
also remember, I am always there.
Should a storm blow up, sail against it,
hold firm and ride it out,
Once it is over, return to your goal;
To your beacon.
Without fear continue your path,
Feel the harmony between yourself,
the sea and the sky.
© miriam ivarson