Look!
The waters were so big.
I hadn’t yet said a prayer.
No blessings for me.
But there I stood,
Haunted by the waters,
Saints in the making,
Rising up,
Pushing shore.
Huge.
I fell down each wave
I rocked on my feet,
Nodding like an old Jew,
Crossing myself,
Allah!
As my head tipped towards the West
She comes ashore
I am drenched,
Also with the love of it.
Time to bring her home.
Time to bring her home.
B. Misty Wycoff
January 25, 2014
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