Water Strider

Water Strider
Betsy McKenzie









Like a water strider on a brook,
I skitter over the top of my psyche.
I count on the surface-tension
To hold me up from the depths.

God protect me from the dark things
That lurk beneath the surface.
Like voracious trout, they loiter in the shadows,
Waiting for the moment to strike me, pull me down.

Or I can be thrown off balance
By all manner of ripples and whirlpools.
I skim past, thinking all is safe and over,
And find myself overturned and tumbled down deep.

February 13, 2006