After Psalm 42
A thirst, parched
a thirst, unslaked
asking when
eating tears, tears
leaving thirst behind
I walk through
a desert, seeking,
and instead of finding,
I am found
I walk with a multitude
singing, our voices pouring
into our souls, walking
to the house
The soul turns to memory
of crossing the river, fearful
and faithful, standing
on the mountain, fearful
and faithful, watching
the waterfall, its force
sweeping over
My thirst, unslaked, finds
water
Photograph by Dan Grinwis via Unsplash. Used with permission.
