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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