Shipwreck

After Acts 27

The storm rages, my ship

strains and creaks, the sound

of wood cracking and splintering,

timbers snapping like small sticks,

the ship breaks apart even before

the soundings grow shallow,

the ship rudderless, the sails shredded,

the ship careens in waves seeking

to devour, swamping

with each monstrous swell.

Over the noise of the storm we hear

the crack and screech of the hull

touching bottom, touching rocks,

ripping apart on rocks as it vomits

us into the swirling tempest. Yet

the word spoke; we live.

Painting: Shipwreck, oil on canvas by J.M.W. Turner (1805); Tate Britain, London.