Pull.

Wind.

Pull.

Again.

Oars bite water.

Boat moves inches.

Night has swallowed land.

Jesus stayed behind to pray.

The disciples fought the wind alone.

Fourth watch.

Darkest hours.

Someone walking where no road exists.

A figure moving on the sea,

coming near enough to see.

They cried out.

A spirit.

Every man afraid.

Be of good cheer.

It is I.

Be not afraid.

Be of good cheer.

It is I.

Be not afraid.

He entered the ship.

The wind ceased.

Amazement filled the boat,

but understanding still lagged behind.

They had held multiplied bread

and somehow missed the sign.

Loaves in their hands.

Water under His feet.

Hard hearts trying to catch up

with what their eyes could see.

It is I.

Be not afraid.

The dark is not the master here.

It is I.

Be of good cheer.

The wind can fall,

the Lord is near.

By morning people ran the roads,

carrying beds from town to town.

Even the border of His garment

became the place where sickness bowed.