Here these feet are burning,
This desert place, this harsh, barren land.
The sand burns,
stings inside the scars on my sole.
I scream in pain, I cry out to the Lord,
Why have you forsaken me?
Tired, I weep, here leaving,
Dripping cystalised salt tears onto my feet,
They whistle and smoke,
A basic and broken incense in my nose.
I wait and must wait, where is the angel?
Where are the answers, that I once
knew so well.
Raise me from my solitude,
Raise me from the parched land.
Grip my hand and hold me, to
bring these eyes to the high place.
The high rock and solid place,
The graceful salvation that I find,
broken but alive, in your hands.
© Copyright 2016 matmoo. All rights reserved.
Poem / Religion and Spirituality
Poem / Humor
Poem / Poetry
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