Into the Water

You moved into the blue as we watched, shorebound.
Speaking words of meaning, the pastor dipped you back.
Engulfed for a moment, then with a rush you rose.
Streams ran off your hair, shoulders straightened,
a tense gasp for air gave way to allayed smile.

We cheered together from dry land –
for the water, for the beauty,
for the profound grace
descending all around.

In eagerness you came ashore to share your joy and bask in ours.
Your wet embrace was cool, somehow sanctifying.

We wear our baptisms differently, imperfectly.
We dry off. We need reminders.
Of all the things that ought to cling
is the going down as old and the coming forth as new.

Yet we need embraces
to pass around the water,
reminding us we are
but partial people,
mended by mercy,
wetted together
in holy love.

Photo by kaleb tapp on Unsplash