Randel McCraw Helms
A Prayer for One Small Resurrection
Once, just once, I assisted resurrection.
A friend presented me a fine bluefish,
Sea-wet and fat with recent feeding in the bay.
I took it to the shore, to scale and clean.
Grimly slitting the distended belly,
I let fall a final meal, a mass of tiny fry,
All chewed and dead. Save one. It squirmed alive
On the sand, yearning for its home, a yard away.
When does earth swerve for us, to yield such a chance?
I scooped a fist of grit and staring eyes,
And flung it hard seaward, with a quick, small plea
That here, one time, was natural death defeated:
Let it unfurl, like silver leaves, to flash
And swim again toward life, to grow, and breed.
Randel McCraw Helms retired from Arizona State University’s English Department in 2007. Making poems is his lifelong vocation.
A Prayer for One Small Resurrection
Once, just once, I assisted resurrection.
A friend presented me a fine bluefish,
Sea-wet and fat with recent feeding in the bay.
I took it to the shore, to scale and clean.
Grimly slitting the distended belly,
I let fall a final meal, a mass of tiny fry,
All chewed and dead. Save one. It squirmed alive
On the sand, yearning for its home, a yard away.
When does earth swerve for us, to yield such a chance?
I scooped a fist of grit and staring eyes,
And flung it hard seaward, with a quick, small plea
That here, one time, was natural death defeated:
Let it unfurl, like silver leaves, to flash
And swim again toward life, to grow, and breed.
Randel McCraw Helms retired from Arizona State University’s English Department in 2007. Making poems is his lifelong vocation.