You said: “Come to me and I will give you rest.” But the sea trembles beneath my feet And my midnight fear is blacker Than churning waters or the sky above. Lord, is it to you I stumble Or just a ghost after all? Inky waves climb to consume me. Struggle fuels the water to tie its noose Around my brittle neck. Driving rain ignites my gasping face, Joining the freefall of tears. “Lord?” A lightning stroke reveals the outstretched hand That I never looked up to notice.