You planted me firmly
in the desert of despair.
Why?
A comfort.
A witness.
Flesh is not my strength.
I am dust under the weight
of sorrow soaked hope.
Cracked souls remember
rain will come.
I grow rooted. Crave you. Secure.
Sustenance will come, you appointed
the season. I know it.
Striving quiets.
Your promises stored.
Though I stand here for a hundred years.
A drop of your love is enough for me
until you flood my soul with the
joy of presence. And I feel the steady
rhythm of revealed rain.
