Walking on Water

 

The water washes over me.

I cower in fear of falling rain

while He is walking on the sea.

 

I’m sinking and straining to be free

of the rhythm of the rocking main;

the water washes over me.

 

Gulping the frothing foam, I agree

my walking on the sea was vain.

While He is walking on the sea,

 

I wish the waves would let me be.

My aching lungs gasp in pain;

the water washes over me.

 

From where I am, all I can see

is the storm. Can prayer sustain

while He is walking on the sea?

 

I shiver and whisper one last plea–

a prayer tainted by the profane.

The water washes over me

while He is walking on the sea.

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