Dried Up
  I don’t know God can you fill this for me?
I feel empty
And my source of water seems dried up these days
Where is your water that ends thirst or whatever that is
Have I been going to the wrong hose?
If you are my salvation, if you are everything to me, why do I feel nothing right now
Dried up shrunken and dusty is my heart
It pumps a dusty squeaky sort of rhythm, that sounds like a name
Your name
Dry heaving every drop of blood from my body
And still it isn’t enough for your salvation
Wait, yours, or His
Which one do I ask for
Do I kneal before a brass statue
Or try to cry out every last tear over the phone to you
Which will save this thirst
The hose I’ve been going to has been dried up for days
And I don’t think the priest would like me sucking up all his holy water
If He makes me whole and he makes me empty
Why am I cutting off the wrong “he”
I’ll go again with my bucket and pail, to the beach
I look for the ocean that used to be so vast, and search till I find some small pool
I’ll fill my bucket, and hope that it lasts me another few months
I could open that Book but all I’d find is wine
And I thirst for water
Yours
Why is love so dry

 

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