The Call

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His voice cuts across the sea, the void,
and fills it with truth.
I’ve never heard a teacher like this.
I hold my oars in the waves and adjust
as he speaks, gentle splashings
so we don’t drift off.
“Simon, take me further,” he says,
done teaching.
So I pull him unto the deep.
He bends over the side
and smiles down at the ink-spilled waves.
“Let down your nets for a catch,” he commands,
and I move to obey even while I shake my head.
Sweat drips down my spine.
“We toiled all night,” says I,
“and caught nothing, lord.”
He looks at me simply.
I cast the nets.
Andrew grins at me.
Why is he grinning at me?
I peer over the hull. The ropes are already breaking.
We pull and pull and almost fall into the waves.
Salted breeze rustles through my soul;
‘mid the weight of pulling, and pulling,
and pulling.
Fish jump into the boat.
I’m on my knees, hardly noticing
the water’s encroachment.
The boat is sinking.
Waves lap deeper around me, as they should.
“Depart from me,” I say.
“For I am a sinful man, O Lord.”
“Do not be afraid.”
The teacher reaches down and lifts me up.
“From now on, you will be catching men.”
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