It cracks me open -
this time with music and muse.
My pen punctures a hole
through a membrane
of routine and lazy habits
into my darkness
stale air escapes.
This writing lets in light and life
it is water on soil
a flowering.

The Master slept; disciples saw the coming storm,
Threw a blanket on their Lord to keep him warm.
Clouds congealed, grays grew dark;
Lightning moved in flashing arcs.

More than a squall, the winds carved trenches
In writhing waters grown black beneath,
Tipped with frothing benches.

Grown weary of the crowds, body spent with care for others,
Still He slept the rest of an exhausted man,
Unaware the growing fear of brothers.

"Wake up! Do you not care if we all drown?"
Was it Peter who shook Him there,
Amazed he slept so sound?

He sat up from sleep, looked at the water,
Felt the wind, turned to the water,
Scolded, "Peace! Be still!"

The winds dropped; so did the waves;
The boat bobbed gently in the calm.
The men, awed, stood on the silent boards,
Marveling at the Lord.

We live upon on a tossing sea,
Torn by hate and fear in a storm of strife,
And no one has an answer we can see.
We're sailors fearing the end of life.
When is the time to turn to God,
Whom we forget still cares,
Waits "sleeping in the boat"
Until we're desperate in our prayers?

Assured and calm the summer rose,
along the bold and steamy land;
With burning rays of sunlight's heat,
the sultry nights of love abandoned.

Sweat poured from my face easily,
as I sat on the wrap-around porch;
With a large tumbler of mint iced tea,
refreshing briefly as the night air scorched.

It was then I recalled the sweet sea air,
where I could run down to the shore;
And with a shout I'd dive into waves,
that cooled my fever to the core.

My mind wandered to that very place,
which brought me peaceful hours;
I'd lie on the sandy beach alone,
with no worries or cares to ponder.

But reality has a way of catching up,
to imagined dreams of heavenly tides;
Taking one last sip of the now warmed tea,
the restless night brought me inside.

And there my lonely bed lay in wait,
no one around to soothe my brow;
The heat brought on a sobering sleep,
escaping visions from the here and now.

Take me to the swan-graced waters...
Where dragonflies would visit,
and skim the surface on tireless wings.

I’d sit with the grounds’ keepers
- the cicadas.
Invisible guardians,
whose shrill song and calls
would only echo through the sparse foliage
and trees - entrancing me into a state of
accompanied aloneness.

A calming solitude,
that enables the eyes
to lapse into a deep,
unjudging gaze into the lake.

And as time slows to a halt,
each breath would lengthen...
The sun would dip into the distant edge
of the lake.
And my heart would skip
as it interprets the dance of the sun
on the water.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     When the Rescuers Stood Down

                                               Surfside, Florida

As the rescuers stood down last night they left
Their prayers, their desperate hopes, their bitter tears
Upon those troubled rocks where they poured out love
They poured themselves, and they are empty now

What’s left must soon come down:

Concrete and steel, toys and dolls, Mama’s pictures
Letters from friends, ‘phones that won’t ring anymore
Eyeglasses, fountain pens, lesson plans, books
Spare change, unfinished poems, unfinished lives

The rescuers will return, and try again
Because their hearts are in that wreckage still

Piano and violins
in the hands of artists
string me along
in a peaceful stream of joy
their delicate threads
wrapped around my heart
on a gray morning
to quince my loneliness.