I’ve tried to write it
before, but I get sucked out
and flipped around with every tide—
the rip current of the Apostles’
Creed wrests me way off
shore where any vessel I know
to clamber onto is full
of men with little faith—
I end up in the bow
without fail, frantic
for a pillow, believing that if
someone could just fall asleep (not me)
—find that much rest inside himself—
we might, I don’t know, catch 153
fish, or walk on water, maybe see
a ghost. I tend to beg
to be thrown overboard
but no one’s drawing straws;
they’re not afraid. And I am
not their prophet. So I roam
the open sea on every page.
*Pics: just a couple waterscapes from my life: Lake Geneva (at the top, unedited!) and then the Gulf Islands, off the west coast of Canada, where I took a wilderness course years ago.
*Also, below: something new! I’m trying this Buy Me a Coffee button. I’ve been sharing an original poem a week since last September here on Substack, for free, and my goal is to complete a full year. And then? I’m not sure. But I do know that will be 52 poems, and that, my friends, is a manuscript! So, if you’re interested in seeing a collection of my poems published in book form, you can chip in this way.
I loved this.
As ever I am captivated...even capsized by your immersion in the ideas of this