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Rebuilding
by Diane Sullivan
Imagine, if you will, with me - a stately lighthouse stands
And keeps it’s silent careful watch o’er lovely palms and sands.
It’s seen its shares of sorrows and if walls could share their pain,
The light would be obscured a while, the tears would fall like rain.
This lovely lighthouse, tall and slim, faced stormy seas by night
And sheltered gorgeous waving trees that kept its vigil bright.
The ocean scrubbed the beaches every day with breaking foam.
The lighthouse winked at crabs and gulls and fish that called it home.
Then one dark day the stormy sea became a raging gale.
A hurricane of might and power so strong precautions failed.
The lighthouse stands there as before, a beacon in the land.
But all around it looms a scene carved by a demon’s hand.
The trees are stripped and broken and the sand needs cleaning now.
The man-made things fared even worse, they’ve gone somewhere, somehow.
The beauty made by God’s own hand is harder now to find
And everywhere destruction makes the land seem much less kind.
But in the darkest times we know that He is still around -
That He will send His angels to rebuild this special ground.
He’ll bring them in from every where with smiles and tools and grins
They’ll be known by the way they help and that they don’t give in.
And when, one day, rebuilding’s done, we’ll look around the place.
We’ll stroll through neighborhoods rebuilt with wonder on each face.
There will be palm trees growing strong and houses, shops, and schools,
And the lighthouse once again will have a bounteous land to rule.
