Poem November 15, 1969 Issue

RECOGNITION

John 21

Gerald Stanwell

Coincidence, you said?
Not the immediate working
of the Lord, that sudden "turn of fate"?

Seven men were fishing. It was late
but no one seemed to care. There were cries
of anguish all unspoken as they toiled
without the zest that follows opened eyes,
since tragedy had smitten.

None had foiled
the plot of Judas. Now they were lost—"at sea"
in fact, bemused in misery, and then
that startling question "Have ye any meat?"
"No"! Who asked? They were only men.