Wind whispers upon my skin and draws me
Back to cold Midwestern, winter nights
Snow flakes falling soft on quiet branches
Only stillness broke the silence
To prefer the freezing calm of mountain air
And mute thunder to warm ocean water
Sighing on the shore would seem strange
Yet preference lies frozen there
The cold that numbs the body, sobering mind
And soul for contemplation with angels
Takes me further out than ocean tide
No longer can I see the shore
Better still the river that connects the two
Releasing power from the ice in trickles
Small and clean of mountain source and spring
Subtly do they build the torrent
In such a river, God as man stepped his heal
Fulfilling words that crushed the poisoned head
Replacing slithering snakes with winding waters
Washing sins and death away.
To my surprise and even my dismay
The Jordan turns against its wave
The priest pours the water in the wine
With force upon my pride—God a slave.
[This is a poem written by the brother of CE's poetry editor about the Theophany, the baptism of Christ and the manifestation of the Holy Trinity to the world. James Pride is an active member of St. Ignatios Melkite Greek Catholic Church in Augusta, Georgia and an awesome friend and brother.]
