Cultivate desolate lands

“I will send a flood of waters to cover the face of the earth” All I see around me is drought. Parched land left desolate for over 2 decades. Farrow ground stretched across a framework of dry bones. Brittle bones that bend with the weight of the promise they hold. Sun scorched skin like red clay. Terra firma along dried up river beds. My calloused hands crack as my cells tear open in search of living waters. I am parched. You promise rain. Torrential downpour that my soul cannot contain. Saturate my soul and the soil on the graves of my dead dreams. “Test and see” Sift out rock from rock. Silt, clay, loam. “Open up” plow this barren field, where promises were still born in tombs of self doubt. Work the hardened granite stone into sediment. Cultivate these barren fields. Till your hardened heart. Fence the foxes out. The ones you’ve fed before. Hunt them down: they’re not welcome anymore. Plant the seeds of promise. Deep within the crevices of your heart. Allow the torrents to wash away your fears. Be drenched in the rains of blessing. Submerge yourself in living waters, be made new again.