Poetry: Fish and faith
By Colleen J. Boucher Mar 2010
That first ride in a canoe
when the lake is stilled
by the humidity;
the heat pressing down
the bugs like microscopic mats
of black blankets
pressing down upon the scallops
of smooth surface — liquid heat.
Only the stroke of an oar
breaks the liquid
barrier of sound.
Silent and wet as we mulled
the nothingness that seemed to
expand the air.
Our words did not speak
so our thoughts lingered there.
In all the green
another world
of liquid life
beneath its surface
moves very fast,
and we,
none the wiser,
believe in the unseen.
We parked the canoe
and cast a line
faithfully,
patiently,
diligently;
fish are divine.
No one was tempted
to leave the murky
garden that day,
and our lines walked
along the water to reach
our reels.
There's something about
serenity
that must be shared.
There's dignity in the silence,
and beyond hook and sinker
there is much I will never know,
but there's nothing
the church can teach me,
that the fisherman doesn't already know
about reeling in and virtuously letting go.| < Prev | Next > |
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