All I have written so far on this blog is about politics. I offer here a poetic identification with Elijah in the Wilderness. I wrote this out of my own experience in the early nineties.
Where?
Oh, God, where?
Where do I go from here?
I sought to know your will;
Want to know it still.
All you have said is “waite, be patient.”
I’ve tried to sit and be content.
How long am I to linger under this tree
Looking for a messenger of majesty?
Where must I go to hear you speak?
A still, small voice is all I seek.
I am an unworthy instrument,
Not certain of your intent.
I keep myself at your feet,
Unwilling to consider retreat,
Knowing I have nothing to give,
Not even the life I live.
What I do not possess, I can not tender.
All I can hope is to fully surrender.
Place in your hands
All your will demands
You are Creator God
I but a vessel of sod.
Where must I go to hear you speak?
A still, small voice is all I seek.
JDJ
Early 90’s
1 comment:
I hope by "pitiful" you're referring to your state at the time and not the poem itself. Great poem.
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