We walk through a dry land
hand in hand.
Or at least, nearby.
The cracked earth is not the only thirsty one here.
New faces join us sporadically
Most as dry and desperate as we.
Some for the journey
Some for curiosity
Not everyone stays
But every single one matters.
An unexpected, but thoroughly accepted moment.
We are thankful, each in a different way.
Either gushes forth uncontrolled
The few stare. Drink.
Or trickles past those near
The crowd watches.
And is lapped up like an Oasis.
Hope. Encouragement. Love.
A rock has been struck, and the Spirit has moved.
Whose staff can we be thankful for?
Probably not mine.
I'm the one running around
Striking any rock that looks like it might contain water
Spitting on the ground to make it look wet.
Just as thirsty as those I try to relieve.
But once in a while, the Spirit will use
Gotta go for now, I see a rock I missed earlier...
(and I love this) :)
Back To Where We Belong
1 week ago