Going to Drown

Going to Drown

(“So the disciples went over to him and woke him up. They said, ‘Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!’” Matthew 18:25)

I don’t want to fight the squall all alone,
or wake to find I feel I must beat the storm back down.
I heard Your words, memorized others, know the stories well,
recite them to the waters that roll, pitch and swell
reminding my only that the angry foamy is
under divine control.

Whether You are awake or alert, the floods spill
and I cry for You to still what I cannot endure.
You did it for them, a cork on the rage,
a bobber on the roar. While I sleep waiting to wake
without the pressure pounding my eardrums blind.

Must faith always be without sight, trust without
audibles massaging the bellow until I reach the distant shore?

Is my faith so miniscule it cannot move the simple dirtpile
upon my brink? Is my trust such a hallucination that to see is
never to touch?

I hold the tears violently within, cannot bail fast enough
and I give in
to the tirades cascading from memory to now; the flood undammed
and the tidal wave bulldozing hopes in the sun.

I am such a whiner, I know. Everyone else, I know,
has troubles more than mine. And so I am caught between
a storm untouched by the divine
and my own refractory mind unresponsive to
love’s comfort said.

I would step across time, or boundaries, or memories if I could,
to revisit more golden days my mind says were stiller than now.

Because my companions, once bailing left and right, clever
and center, are beyond my reach. Perhaps once they read
the labels I’ve acquired, they would walk arm’s distance
unbailing my daydream during the siren screech of the wail.

That is one thing I know, You have not bail or jumped ship,
but I would, please Dear Sir, for You to stop the waves

Now

Whether climate’s stew
or my broken mind’s vast
imagination.