In the Wilderness

Sun-parched earth stretches for confounding miles,

strewn with stones. A rocky edifice here

imposes its towers, yonder

cleaves the dust, a shelter

for scraggled plants eking out subsistence.

Is it here that You lead?

Into thirsting days and nights that long

for a ray of warming light?

Hardest, not the dearth of food

nor toiling, tiring days, nor wind-chilled

nights; rather, a bleary mind,

blank and hungry, bowed under

irritability, petty pride,

self-seeking,

traveling bubbling ways

of distraction that melt to mist, athirst

for the whisper of Your voice

But, oh! when You come

the desert remembers her beauty,

her blooms more vivid for their rarity.

And You will cleanse and You will fill

and You will change

the wasteland into Paradise,

if I but wait

upon Your Word—

wait patiently.

Sr. Cecilia