I, on the shore,
Watching the milk-green waves fight,
Afreaid of seeing more,
In exaltation and wonder, taking flight.
Looking back, like the wife of Lot,
At nature's weird, mysterious phenomenon,
Rushing with anguish into waves of Moloch
To overcome the befallen Omen.
I, plunging, washing my fear
In the angry, roaring, rising and falling waves,
Banishing my dread with a prayer,
As the angry flood softens its fearful face.