I am your Peter

I am no rock, yet I am your Peter,
Not the one who runs skipping to your place of rest,
Hoping for a glimpse of the unfathomably true,
Not the one who stands in front of nations,
Proclaiming what until then I had not understood.
No, I am not these things, but I am your Peter.

I am the one who tells you to call out to me,
Who begs for you to beckon me close,
And when I brave the edges of my safety,
When I thrust my feet into the swelling terrors,
Standing amidst the fury of all great fears,
I am free, even if for one brief moment,
Even there and even then, I am free.
And even there, I am your Peter,

Sinking and crying out to you,
For I have grown weary and afraid.
Your waves looked much smaller from inside the wall,
And you, you looked much calmer, 
When my eyes were fixed upon yours.
Go away from me, get back!
You do not know who I am, nor dare I let you.
For I am who we all are: a sinful man, a sinful woman,
A sinful people; and still I am your Peter.

I don't know what it is, I cannot ever explain.
But I've given you up three times, and that's enough.
I am too tired of doing that, so must we now part?
Is this where you disappear into the clouds of my winter,
And leave me with only your spirit?
Yet even if this be, if this is all that ever can,
I know you will be with me, even unto the end.
And here will I stay, for I am your Peter.