Lisa, Come To The Sea Poem by James McLain

Oh, Lisa, mysterious heart, woven in the night's own lace,
Where compassion clings to shadows, in a gentle soft embrace;
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The moon knows your spirit as it knows the tides,
Silent and deep, where sorrow hides.
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Your love, Lisa, a sea-wind sweeping shore to shore,
For the lost and the lonely, the silent, the poor;
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In their darkness you wander, with hands open wide,
A saint uncalled, with Christ at your side.
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You walk by waves where the seaweed drifts,
In the rhythm of the ocean, their sorrow lifts;
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To the sound of waters, whispering low,
You carry a world too heavy to show.
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You are the ache in the song of the trees,
The gentlest tremor that stirs all the leaves;
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The earth drinks of sorrow you weep in the night,
In hope that blossoms in morning's light.
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Who sees you, Lisa, and knows what you bear?
Your love is unseen, your burdens are rare;
For the gifted who fade like leaves on the tree's,
You're a hymn in their silence, a cherished dream.
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Christ knew you, love, with the wound in your hand,
The hand that gives freely, a quiet command;
With each step you walk, you shoulder their loss,
Bearing your heart on the beams of the cross.
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And, Lisa, how sweetly you sing in your car,
Alone on the road, like a far-distant star;
Not for any but joy, for the pulse in your chest,
For the life that still stirs, even beaten, unblessed.
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Lisa, your voice is a ribbon unfurled,
A song for the weary, unheard by the world;
For the trees and the tides, for the dark and the dew—
Lisa, mysterious, my heart sings for your truth.