Lightning flashed before my eyes - I lay in bed near death. I felt bright colors on my chest, and smelled the warm sunrise. I heard my dear priest’s throaty rasp proclaim an ancient prayer; his water words flowed up the stairs, outpacing my weak grasp - and rose into a golden climb, which beckoned to the top. I left my failings far behind - my overtrying stopped. As water once was turned to wine, I was - then I was not -
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the author of Gently Between the Words: Essays and Poems. He is a Presbyterian pastor in Chapel Hill, North Carolina where he shares life with his spouse, also an ordained minister, their three young children, and dog named Ramona after their favorite literary heroine.