5 January 2008, 1:44 PM
The waters are blessed, running backwards
in exactly the same way time does not.
Fish are thrown from chaos into order,
in exactly the same way we wish
our little ones would be.
But even the fish were forced upstream
for a bit in the coming of the Lord;
even the Forerunner must have known
at least a moment of panic before fulfilling
the Word, his hand upon the head
of the One the angels dare not touch.
Perhaps this is the storm- our panic,
wondering what the hell we’re doing-
the moment just before blessing.