As a teenager I dismounted my bike
on a calm summer’s day
down by the shore
between Burt and Inch Island.

The sun was reflected on the still water,
forming a perfect, white circle,
almost like a giant Communion host.
A slight breeze blew up
and brushed against the surface of the water,
gently shattering the sun’s reflection,
scattering it into thousands of pieces
across the rippling surface.
The sun’s reflection was gone.

As an adult, life happens each day,
busy and demanding,
pulling me
in a thousand different directions.
Like the sun’s reflection in the water at Burt,
I too feel scattered, spread too thin,
distractedly trying to be
in two places at once!
I feel drained.

In prayer, I still myself.
I try to calm the waters of my life,
which are sometimes gently rippling,
other times stormy.
And as peace slowly comes,
all of those tiny fragments of me
gradually piece themselves together
until I am at last made whole again,
at peace
in the presence of My God.

And at Burt, on calm summer days,
the wind dies down,
the water is still
and for a brief while
the sun is reflected again,
whole,
against the dark water.

(c) Claire Murray