There were other boats with him
the day the storm disturbed Galilee.
He, bone-tired from teaching, lay still in the stern,
so asleep, not even the furious squall could wake him.
But they did. The faithless, fearful disciples.
And he was angry with them, and with the wind.
Grumpy with interrupted slumber.
But what about the other boats?
They had no presence with them.
They heard no rebuke.
Their terror diminished when the storm died.
Only the disciples felt the lash
of his tongue
and felt their dread grow even as the storm calmed.
‘What is this?’ they asked.
Maybe he had fallen asleep again
and didn’t hear their questioning.
Or he might have shouted at them.