Soundings

Caught in a crevasse,

In the lows between

Two rogues.

Who directs these,

And how am I here?

 

This ocean cannot be

Fathomed as the

Heavens cannot

Be crossed.

To whom do I belong?

 

The temptation is to jump.

Man overboard, Man

Over bored.

Whether Jesus lays asleep

In the hold,

 

Or walks on the water’s

Lips, arms out,

Out of the pseudo safety

Of a lifeboat.

Is there any question now?