Awkward and uncoordinated, I was
like a waddling penguin unaware, standing
on the slippery slope of trusting in your goodness
that bitter cold day you flung me out
of my world and onto an island,
named Hell and frozen over.

My slide into obscurity introduced me
to the icy pain of silence, glacier-sized rejection.
My chilly personality and downright frigidity
proved valuable after all. I never wasted
my warmth on chatter but built up
internal reserves and faith.

When tears turned to icicles that pierced me
yet again, I dreamed of Heaven’s King, remembered
golden sun. When repeated attempts to free myself
from ice-floe waters failed, still I saw Polaris
reflected there and looked up to find
true north, hope hanging in the sky.

And now, after eight years, as the ice breaks,
as gulf stream waters expand and I drift northward,
thawing out from unexpected detour in my life, my soul 
longs for fragrant meadows, for windy days and
colored leaves. I watch and hope for simple
opportunities, for love so long denied.