When faced with the plank,
I feared the sea.
I shouldn’t have.
The dark waters have always borne me
like God’s own hand.
Breathing petrified air
for far too long,
I’d neglected the glide
and swift flip
I’d learned
birthed at the milk side
of deep monsters who’d cradled
the calfling me.
Kohl running,
half-burned candle
ripped from my hand,
arms and legs bound,
I braved the ship’s side.
Pirates snarled insults
with teeth missing,
and legs, from the knee.
But what did they know
of my means,
their jealous hands yielding
the treasures of scurvy
and bitter gangrene?
No push needed, I jumped—
fear on their scarred visages,
gaping, cursing me
and their luck,
with every tie being unstrung
in the sparrow-filled wind.
© 2023
Jennifer Wagner
What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows. Matthew 10:29-31
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me. ~ Civilla D. Martin, 1905