Luke 8: 19-39

The whole town is astir, and in the air

a murmur, awe, and wide eyes all around.

We were all shut in tight against the pound

of wind and rain and lightning everywhere.

It wasn’t the tempest’s rage that makes us stare

in wonder – that was natural – but the sound

of sudden silence, perfect and profound

as if in answer to a sailor’s prayer.

Over the lake, the sunrise glories warm

the water and earth, and we can hear a cry

whimper from near the tombs. He is awake.

Our herd of pigs, led out after the storm,

rolls in the mud under a clear blue sky.

And there’s a boat just landing on the lake.


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