Beaching the Dawn Treader

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Spoken Watson

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When we reach the new world
I suppose we'll begin standing
Where the tide collides with sky and eternity
The other pairs set aside
We will be left with heaven and earth reuniting
The roar of waves will sound like the cries of a people so long lost at sea
Then suddenly, emerging on the other side of the storm to find the lighthouse that does not go out
The old wooden ships that carried us here
Built by carpenters and morticians
Shall be broken upon the rocks
And the debris molded into artwork by the currents
We may begin solemn
Standing on that shore
And glance back at footprints left in the sand
Disjointed and dragging, marred by stumbling and fumbling for the right words
But we'll take off the soggy shoes
Sun bleached and worn away
Plant our feet in the sand confident no hurricane can take this land away

Our old gait left us quite unable to walk without pain
But here the sea's breath ebbs away our calloused heels
Strips away the recalcitrance until we learn how to run again
We stopped dreaming we could fly
But here the wind carries us like children screaming: higher, daddy, higher!

And then we'll hear the birds
Beings with wings and eyes and songs
And how they'll sing with us
Laughing at all the stormcrows without vocation
And they'll sail with us with the winds
The summoned spirits shall twirl about with the dancers
And the earth hum along with the builders
The fire shall crackle like the poets
And we will remember the voyage here like a
Dream
Terrible and trembling
With moments of uncertainty
And confusion
And longing for something to make sense
But then, our eyes open
And the ragged souls will find rest beyond sleep
Standing beside brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers,
Each who went on ahead, awaiting us anxiously
As the whole host of those souls
Arranged like an army without arms, marching triumphantly

We follow the procession further up and further in,
Finding valleys, and vineyards, and mountains, and more than can be penned
And the story shall finally begin
When we behold with watering eyes the captain who kept us safe
And cling to Him as a long lost friend
And I cannot help but believe that when our pilgrimage finds its end
On the shores of that new country
The sum total of all beauty will not compare to the majesty of just a moment with Him

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