The Storm
The boat,
smooth sea,
tight sail,
the bow slices the
blue-green
Men at ease with their Leader, their Friend.
Asleep, now, in the debris of broken nets
and smells and scales of long-gone fish.
All’s well, far from the shore,
In hush, swift they go,
Ventures to come through voyages’ mist.
Blind, they travel, to dangers unknown.
“Listen!’ says one.
The distance stirs
with thunderous breaths
expelled in long agonizing screech.
Wind-filled seas assault,
the roar and waves, boiling foam,
tangle cords in shears of cloth.
The sea, severe, spurns order and sense.
Screams mix with terrifying roar.
The storm’s rages rise
to meet men’s fearsome cries,
“Where’s our good One
who sent us to this watery hell?”
Terror-filled, a soul looks down, wondering if it’s real.
The sight of their Man
sleeping through the
horror, violence and hopeless distress.
Harsh, they grab His coarse cloth
to shake awake
the One who must have
made a horrible mistake.
Eyes open, He hears their
insane, hopeless pleas,
“Save us, save us,
or we, all, will certainly die!”
Wiping the sleep and fish scales
from His face,
One elbow props up the perplexing sigh,
He looks to them and stares
and looks once more.
To their worldly moment,
soon lost in time, He asks,
“Why do you fear?”
“Why?” demands He, for answers already known.
To their hearts and spirits, He speaks,
“Your faith from heaven is lost,
forgotten,
so sadly forgotten in Me!”
“Who are you men?
What of the sea?
No matter, sinking or sailing,
Your true self, your purpose
belong to Me.”
“For best and greater,
always in My hands,
To love, to guide,
eternity bring I.
We’re one,
forever!
Yes, we’re one
together,
always and always, you and I.”
Copyright © Michael Popovici | Year Posted 2020
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