Saturday, July 25, 2015


So dry
And I thirst,
But the worst
Is this sand.

Grains fly,
Pierce my face
Every place
In this land.

We fled
Pharaoh's grip
For this trip
Which I hate.

No bread
While we stray,
So we pray
And we wait.

Parched lips
Spit a groan
Til the stone
Touched his rod.

These sips,
Through the pains,
My thirst wanes
Thanks to God

But food?
Despite fears
It appears:
Manna, quail

Our Guide:
Smoke and flame
Yahweh Came
Without fail.

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