That this rock-hard, scrubby, suncracked expanse
Is in truth a cool drink of water
uniquely suited to my
Only You could perceive
That this relentless solitude, these averted eyes,
this heartbreaking hunger
Would prove to be ideal suitors
to my forsaken muse
and my neglected pen.
How else can I thank You
but to embark upon this stroll, arm-in-arm, with death?
I live to live, but today, my head rests against death's shoulder.
For only this high desert, whose thirsty afternoons
and subzero nights
and sudden lightning
and bruising hail
can sicken me with fear,
Can shelter my anonymity,
Provide a haven for my most sacred dreams,
And listen with me in reverent attention
to Your private hymns.
Submitted to Thursday Poets Rally #43
Friends unseen yet kind
Say "there's always time to write" --
Start here -- don't look back.
Many thanks for this award. See all the winners at Promising Poets' Poetry Cafe. I nominate Becky -- be sure to read her work!