A DESERT PSALM

From the deserts of our empty lives
We cry to you, O Lord.
As owls hooting in the wilderness
We search the horizon for succour;
In the drought of our loss
We find only jagged stones
And burning sand -
Where are you God?
Only our voices echoing on the wind
Disturb the thundering silence.

Then gently on the breeze
The scent of jasmin
And through the stillness of the sun’s last rays
The sky turns pink then purple;
till in the deep dark of night the air comes heavy,
Burdened with oppressive heat
and sultry indignation:
And then as love gives birth again,
The first sweet drops of rain
To slake our croaking thirst.

So, hidden, are you there?
In shadows, is it you who reaches out
Inviting us to breakfast on the sand?
No recognition yet,
Just arms out-held;
And trembling, we come close
As you receive our pain
And tears, and make
Our place your own.

And at that breakfast feast
So well prepared
Are all your friends
Across the ages of the past,
And the moments of our lives;
And they are there
And we are there
With you, together,
At the rising of the sun.

In memory of The Revd Stuart Huyton, priest and pilgrim.
December 2012