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Turbulence
by Michael Escoubas
after The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, 1633, by Rembrandt van Rijn
None of us could figure how any man,
even The Man,
could sleep through the boat’s
tilt and roll.
We were used to the suddenness of storms–
(after all some of us were fishermen,
until a certain Man got hold of us.)
Now, we knew, we felt as never before,
the heave and sway
of turbulence, as the surging sea took hold of life.
We felt the clench of evil hands.
The bow slapped hard as the water became
a churning bowl of pandemonium.
The vessel’s pitch and yaw got us off our heading,
our rudder, useless at this point.
Finally, when the squall seemed at its worst,
it took only a word from Him …
and everything got quiet as if nothing had happened.
No high fives. Just chastisement
that we all should have had more faith.
Go figure.
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