A new poem: "​Lake Erie after the storm"

​Lake Erie after the storm
 
I sit, suspended--
held above the sand
by canvas and wood.
I am a spectator to a war.
I am an impartial observer on this shore.
 
Froth crested mountains surge forward,
writhing and enraged.
Each pressing wave devour each other with frenzy
with rancour
like wild berserkers
assaulting the limits of reason.
 
Watching with wonder
and fear
wave upon wave upon wave--
shouting tumult, ceaselessly roaring
a single-minded
march against the shore.
 
The shore.
Silently drinking up every
battalion to the last man
unslakable as
Divine resolve,
immovable as God himself.
 
Why do the nations rage?
Why does my heart rage?
The earth and sand and rock remain
despite the bluster, the pounding,
the shouting,
The shore remains.

© 2021 Jeremy W. Johnston