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By Peter O
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"...they wandered in the desert and on mountains
and in dens and caves of the world." Henrews 11:38


Your loved people, Your chosen,
Desert wandered for forty years --
Tested, cleansed and prepared,
For the Land of Promise.

Likewise, at times,
Desolate sands
Blister my soul's feet --
The sands subdue hope,

As I climb my soul's mountains,
Thoughts without eyes
Drag through my soul --
"Father, where are You?"
"Where are You?"

Shame memories
Shoot from my soul's caves,
Hidden for years,
Now unsealed by doubt,
"How could You forgive me?"
"Care for someone like me?"

My prayers?
Sand-dry, parched,
Spoken through broken windows.


I turn to Your Son, Jesus,
How You loved Him,
Chose Him as our Salvation-Gift,
Yet, both Garden and Cross
Bled His desert.

I turn to Your People, the Chosen,
How You loved them,
Chose them as our Salvation's-Gift-Source,
Yet, they desert wandered for forty years,.

With this before me,
I pray:
Grace me with the truth --
My desert is Your Love, Your Gift,
To test, cleanse and prepare me
For You,

With the fat of "I"
Burnt off.

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Submitted: Sunday, April 22, 2012

Last Updated: Sunday, April 22, 2012

About the Poet
I am 79 years of age. For the past nine years I have been retired, after forty years, from the field of alcoholism and drug abuse in New York City. I am married and we have two grown sons and two grand-sons. My life changed through a grace-experience in 1967. Writing Christian prayers is a particular interest of mine. This came about by a growing awareness of the spiritual in recovery from addictions. I choose, intellectually and emotionally, to believe the Triune God of the Sared Scriptures as my Healer.

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