Desert Land

Desert Land

The sweltering heat
takes my breath away.
My parched lips beg for drops
of liquid to quench my thirst.

The dry, dead air
has stolen my voice;
I cannot beg for mercy.
No mortal can hear my screams.

The sun becomes my enemy,
drying and burning my skin.
Relief refuses to come,
though my eyes cry no more tears.

What do I see on the horizon?
Clouds approach, dark and ominous,
though beautiful to me!
My silent prayers do not fall on deaf ears!

Life-giving rain falls just over there,
filling the scorched air with moisture.
My portion in the desert is soon ended.
Oh, showers of joy, I beg you, “Hasten!”

Pat Nelson
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Karen 's response to my poem:

Looking Up in Desert Times

…silent prayers are heard…

Out of the emptiness and dearth
you found a place of living earth,
You journeyed through the desert heat
and felt barren sand on your feet.

The boiling sun and dry dead air
drove you to a desperate prayer
Your tearless eyes were not cast down
when your weakened knees hit the ground.

You were still there looking upward
when God sent blessed rain downward
He sent the falling of His tears,
when He heard your unspoken prayer.

Karen Crump{/b}