Friday, August 19, 2011


Barren soul-desert,
neglected, parched
scabby heart
clean, dry cracks of once-mud

somehow, flowers:
still sun-hungry,
persistent roots
in search of Water

I pick up my shovel - 
the work is refreshing.

Only now
comes the sound of Rain.

1 comment:

  1. I hope you can feel a whole downpour of love soaking you through to your insides and turning that cracked earth into sucking, slurpy, slippery, all enveloping mud puddles that cover you head to toe :)