After Psalm 42

This is the dry land

Stretching beyond sight

And soaking up our tears

This is the arid land

Unfit for our survival

Desiccating joy

Preserving every skeleton

And the wind of time beats against our faces

Devouring all we are.

Into this land we are born.

But oh, the stars

Brilliant in this dry sky,

Calling,

Calling,

Calling our names, reminding us of more!

Let us not be satisfied with sand

Or call our thirst ‘maladjustment’.

Let our hearts be more than a shell,

A hollow place packed with dust:

Dry, shrivelled, dead,

Where skittering insects crawl across our minds.

Let our thirst become a prayer,

Let us know our need,

In our stumbling and our mumbling let us learn to weep

Even in the dry land.

Till His rivers flow

Deep beyond deep,

And carry us to Love.