by Deborah Ann Belka
3/16/2012 / Poetry
The soul thirsts,
after rivers deep
pant like gasps,
from inside seep.
Murmurs heard,
from parched lips
needing more,
more ~ than tiny sips.
Living waters,
living hells
flowing streams
dried up old wells.
The arid soul,
is keen and eager
for its full share
not what is meager.
Spring of hope,
scorched creek bed
the thirsty soul needs
the Fountainhead.
Bitter waters,
God will soon heal
water of life flows
from Calvary Hill.
The soul thirsts
after rivers deep
but only God . . .
makes them seep!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Exodus 17:3
"And the people thirsted there for water; and
the people murmured against Moses, and
said, Wherefore is this that thou hast brought
us up out of Egypt, to kill us and our children
and our cattle with thirst?"
Copyright 2013
Deborah Ann Belka
bdebby@hotmail.com
www.hiswingsshadow.com
http://poetrybydeborahann.wordpress.com/
TO GOD BE THE GLORY!
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