Retablo of the Near-Missed Miracle

More about Retablo of the Near-Missed Miracle

Painted on a thin sheet of tin, nailed a little off level.

On the left, an artist stands in waders, fly rod arcing like a sentence that knows where it’s going. The line kisses the lake. The water listens.

On the right, far away and unknown to the first, another artist paints fish that have decided gravity was optional. They lift from the same lake, wings where doubt used to be, flying under a full moon that is perfectly round and perfectly uninterested in coincidence.

The two images never meet.
They don’t need to.

Between them hangs the miracle:
that the world can hold two correct visions at once—
one casting downward, one rising up—
and neither cancelling the other.

This retablo is offered
for the quiet agreement between strangers
who touch the same mystery
from opposite shores.