A Dry Well

Here I stand
On my barren land,
Ninety days
In the sun’s hot rays.
Daily I pray
For rain to pass my way.
I go to my well to quench my thirst,
Unable to tell at first
That my pumping will be to no avail,
That the old dry well for me will fail.
As the hours grow longer,
My thirst becomes stronger.
I stagger on
Till my strength is all gone;
Then down I lie,
Ready to die.
From Heaven I hear a voice so mild.
It is God calling, “Come home, my dear child.
Come home and
Drink from the Living Waters
And never thirst again.”

The Colors of Life, 2003
Great Poems of the Western World, 2005
Oak Hill Poetry Chapbook, 2006

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