Poetry by Peter T. Cavallaro
I met God in the ocean swell.
Yes, didn’t you hear?
There
in the roar of the surf
standing astride sandbars
I met him.
It happened when I got jolted off-balance
and passed into the dread wall—
heart pounding,
a rush of cold on my face,
the weight of watery worries on my hair.
There was I, alone: descending
spread-eagle
inside the collapsing tube
where sky eclipsed
and sound stood still
and my eyes, kissed by debris, locked shut,
when I felt
my body rise, hoisted
by some muddy clamor—
weightless
care-less
swallowed – a plaything!
tumbling fro
at the whim of breakers,
like clay in their crush.
There
in the press
of that green deep
came God;
in the pit of the sea we met.
And he said:
“Control is your illusion.”
The waters rolled back,
lowering me
onto a carpet of kelp
where
the sun’s rub pierced
my receding aqua-veil.
Stillness – and then roar.
Written underwater
Peter T. Cavallaro is a poet, writer, attorney, adventurer, and nature photographer. He lives in New York.
