Journal of a Desert Traveler

I'm in a desert today. It's an ocean of sand and heat, dry bones and endless hills, loneliness and desperation. I brought nothing to eat, and worse still, nothing to drink. Somehow (I really don't know how) I keep moving: one step in front of the other, one foot prodding the other on. I have never been so miserable in my life. The pain I feel outside matches the pain inside, my body churnging and cramping and pleading with me for water. All I can do is think about getting "there," wherever that may be.

Yes, I see that well, but I have to keep moving. I'm sure another one will come along soon.

I see that one, too, but I don't have time for that right now. Don't you understand that I'm killing myself just trying to survive?

I know, I'm not blind. Of course I see it. I'll go just a little farther and stop at the next one. I must be getting close to somewhere real by now. THEN I'll drink like there's no tomorrow.


"Absurd," you say.
Is it?
"No one would ever do that!"
No?

"My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word." ~Psalm 119:28

I'm in a desert today. I'll be here again tomorrow. There are no roads, no towns, no signs of an end, and I'm holding nothing. Will I walk past the well, or will I take time to gain strength for the long, hard journey?


Stung
Deep inside
By an emptiness
From less than nothingess
Walking through this
Broken, dried
Riverbed

Burnt
Breathing hard
Desperate to taste
Any hint of grace
that can make
a dead man walk
revived

thrown
- lifeless -
over my own shoulder,
no one else would hold her
so I carry her (me)
and both of our
weakness

dragged
(by myself)
so much farther
past streams of water
pushing harder
"We can make it till
the next well."

"O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water." ~Psalm 63:1