A parched soil—
cracked, barren, yearning,
thirsty,
sinking into death.
My spirit, withering,
gnawed by hollow hunger,
enlisted in error
by a single act:
The act—
sealing shut
the Word of God,
the Living Water.
My soul,
a silent witness to this wrong,
sank
into depression,
into hopelessness,
into dust.
Yet opening His Word,
I drank from ancient wells—
joy spilling,
peace unfurling,
hope reborn.
For He
is His Word,
overflowing
in my hands.
