Friday, November 7, 2008

The Fourth Watch

This lake
living far below the sea,
is the ambition of nature,
a fertile ground giving life
and livelihood to
all who are born into it.
It was the perfect climate
to give rise to myths and legends...
but this is no myth.

We gathered round for evening prayer
and boarded the wooden craft
upon a surface glistening
a silver path to Capernaum.
The silence reflected in our minds eye
the hours spent
shepherding crowds of lost sheep
and mourning the baptist
whose blood still runs through
the heart of the Jordan
into this lake.

It was the fourth watch.

It was the fourth watch when
down from the eastern heights,
funneling through the valleys of the hill country,
the rushing squall met us.
And soon we were straining at the oars
begging for forgiveness,
one passenger short -
the One we left on the mountainside to pray,
the One who fed us
and thousands more this day.
I could not understand, but now I know.

Fighting the ten foot waves,
losing the battle,
I tossed my oar to the charging wind
toward a shadow appearing steadily,
w
a
l
k
i
n
g
across the waves
towards us
and into the boat
that had reached its destination
on a calm silvery lake.

He will come again during the fourth watch
when the sun will be darkened and the moon
will not give it's light.
At that time, His sign will appear in the sky,
and begin to shake everything out,
as it did that night.

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