Leila

The river turned on her, angry.

Churning water, debris

swirled monstrous around her.

But rivers have rocks,

and in the middle,

“one higher

than I,” she told me.

She climbed upon it,

stayed to her knees, footing unsure.

And the river became an ocean swelling,

spray mighty.  Flecks of sand stung her skin.

Winds rushed.  She closed her eyes.

It raged— it drenched, it raged, raged—

and receded.  A parting of the sea.

And she stood, unscathed,

though not unaffected.

Chains, foul and bound to her infected flesh,

infected heart, had been torn away.

Miseries vanished, banished

like ghosts themselves spooked.

And to the other side—she leapt

to the meadow in sunlight

of promises kept,

and keeps

on leaping

further, farther,

now she’s free.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
When my heart is overwhelmed;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Psalm 61:2