White froth, like goat’s milk, rushes into the boat only to spill back into the trough as the boat tips. Peter’s fisherman feet find purchase on the slick wood, but other men fall, and clutch at ropes and nets. There, shouts a voice filled with terror. A disciple points a trembling finger. There. A figure. Peter squints – a trick of the roiling waves? Then he hears the voice. It is I. Peter’s eyes are wide. Bid me come to Thee. The words soar over the waves and land at His feet. Come. And Peter, his eyes never wavering, steps out, his sandals bridging the space of the possible. In that moment, before he looked down, before Thou art the Christ, before the cock crowed, He walked. Suspended between heaven and earth. Standing only on a blaze of faith. Thou shalt catch men, and Christ caught him.
Lorraine Jeffery is a former librarian who found joy in writing after her ten children were raised.
First Place Poem, “Holy Places” Contest
(Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash)
