Lighthouse
I was once a lighthouse. Onshore, somewhere in the North, I stand in the green meadow with sheep being my companions. How is that, to be so deeply enrooted in Mother Earth and at the same time being a symbol for security and homeland for others. I guide the ships into their safe harbour – home. Send my light into darkness – I am there – you little vessel are not alone.
Through fog I cut my light. I the night I share my light with the stars.
By day I enjoy the colours, the air, the roar of the surf. Which calms me and lets my thoughts swing back into the time, when I used to have feet.
I see ships arrive, wait and leave. I see their movements being mirrored by the water.
Mirrored in my windows from which I shine. I see women rejoicing when the beloved comes home. I see long embraces and assurances – never so long away again.
They send me a thank you and go home. Sometimes I get flowers sent, even kisses or word of gratitude.
When it’s really stormy – then I live and send my light with even more power into the world.
The whipped up sea, again and again, breakes with vehemence against my feet. Againg and again. I know it, it seems like tickling to me and makes me laugh. It’s a game.
My red-white garment waves in the spume – but I shine and shine. Could be that there is a little ship outside sticking to my light. I provide security and solid floor.
I am not alone. I see the lights of so many others being like me.
When I am burnt-out the lighthouse keeper visits me and recharges my energy. He does me good. He encourages me and fixes my age spots. He likes me. I ask him, „Have you ever seen a dancing lighthouse?“
Dancing lighthouses are called ghost lights.
-Written by Claudia Haas
