I climb the wet stairs with bare feet and wait
a moment, sit, push off, slide slippery down
with water carrying me round bends at a rate
that thrills me, spills me giggling and not drowned.
I float, then scuttle on the ocean floor,
up, up the tropic coastline of Belize.
I race on palms to reach the grassy shore.
I laugh, the first to scrape sand with my knees.
Perhaps in the New Earth’s Eden I will swim
eight hundred miles deep, skim the glassy sea
like Peter, without drowning, eyes on Him
who watered earth and paradise for me.
He baptizes with joy, and life springs out,
splashing, within me, from a heavenly spout.