, April 24, 2024

0 results found in this keyword

To Walk on Water

  •   1 min read
To Walk on Water

Vincent R. Pozon

Faith is an act of lying supine,
and motionless, torso yielded,
bare skin cold in a blue and white room
of soft voices tittering about
bare skin recoiling from the idea
of a surgeon with a scalpel in hand.

When a man is carried away against his will,
hands flail and grab whatever are about,
my fingers reach for and wrap around
the door jambs of unsurrendered problems.

I am Isaac, elbows bound, bewildered
by the sight of a dagger overhead,
I am Peter, my toe touches the water
and the water gives way, the cold
of a laughing sea teasing forefoot
as I pierce the surface gingerly
searching for a floor to tread on.
I am Moses and worse, if the rock
is not a geyser in a nervous second,
I will strike it ten times and more.

Though this faith is feeble, like a weed
that peeps from a crack in the concrete,
weed it still is, frail but not fragile,
I will tend to it, and nourish it
until it is a prickly carpet,
until I can heave larger sighs,
until I can see, with eyes closed tight,
the hand staying the hand of Abraham,
until I can ignore the hubbub
of wars and virus news, condone
the bright light of television,
sleep even, like at the barber’s,
sleep even with a razor beneath my chin
scraping the days of worrying away,
until I learn to walk on water.

Related Posts

You've successfully subscribed to Our Brew
Great! Next, complete checkout for full access to Our Brew
Welcome back! You've successfully signed in
Success! Your account is fully activated, you now have access to all content.
Success! Your billing info is updated.
Billing info update failed.
Your link has expired.