Floating
You
taught Peter to walk on the water –
until
fear turned his feet to lead.
Now,
You’re urging me to float
this
concrete body
upon a
plane so insubstantial,
not
grabbing or flailing;
not
reaching back upon the empty
mechanics
of swimming,
but
lying gently
in the
shape of a cross,
drifting
towards infinity,
feeling
at my neck’s nape,
and the
small of my back,
Your
fingertips …
until
they, too,
dissolve
into Ocean.
O child
of God, trust the Sea.
Roll
with the waves.
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