2011 Issue - Santa Fe Community College

A Fish Slipped
Into My Arms
While I Was Praying
by Susan Varon
I make my way in prayer and it’s like walking underwater,
the sounds dim, I put my feet down deliberately,
one after the other in slow motion. I come from people
who were fishermen, my father and all his sisters sat
on piers, in boats, stood by the side of a pond casting
and recasting. They spent hours praying for fish
to find them—bluegills, shiners, perch. Not a miracle with loaves
and a crowd to be fed but a private dispensation,
a sweaty wish worth wrestling for, worth a wait of hours.
When I walk around in prayer I am fearless and slow,
like a crazy person,
but I look just like everyone else, that’s the joy of it,
I can carry a fish in my arms
of any denomination, its scales wet and shiny,
its eyes peacefully closed, I’m the only one who sees
it has offered itself in service
in case I can use it I’m the only one who knows
how to appreciate this.
Santa Fe Literary Review 85