The sails are broken and torn apart.
The ropes are swinging from side to side
heavy with water, salt and sea.
The lights are flashing across the sky.
The storm is upon our swaying wreck
with rumbling encore and fearful might.
My heart is dead within my chest.
I suffocate in a sea of desperation.
Drowning, grasping at straws I lost in unbelief.
“Lord wherever you are, is there no miracle you have saved for a time such as this?”
“Don’t you care that I perish?”
My smallness is apparent to me now more than ever.
My pride has vanished like the mist that it is.
The scales have fallen. My heart is open.
The straw I perceived is changing form.
It is stretching a hand. It is rebuking the storm.
I am grabbing its hand. It is pulling me out.
It is over. The storm is quiet. I can breathe again.
I woke the straw up.
Jesus is Lord over the storm