Familiar with the desert and its harsh existence burning sand and wind-worn hills scavengers consuming the very existence giving little hope of a fertile land –
When an unexpected hand reached down, a clearer picture was seen with running streams and fruitful plains! A rich banquet had been prepared with enough to spare!
Sitting on a bench reflecting on her life, there is a longing in her heart why had not her formative years been spared?
But the promise rang true “The years the locust have eaten have not been wasted they will be restored” ** The bumps and ridges of dry desert sand truly had become bridges to a better land!
A Metaphoric Reflection
Her humble house stood in array The kitchen table with empty chairs is saddened, in the cupboards are antagonists chewing
Lowly locusts with their flatulent bellies and bulging eyes inch their way through grubby cabinets . . . a cry is heard as smoke comes through the door It is sad, this house is now ashes but it has to be
The scavengers of earth must bow in solemnity to the sacred word
The cabinets are no longer stirring gnawing has ceased as the locusts retreat
This girl of dust is no longer a wanderlust Her house has become a home glowing within, she would like to invite all to come and eat, there is plenty of room at the table A table draped in white linen, bread and drink fully given, candlelight reflecting the faces of those no longer hidden!
These are selected verses from my book “The Wanderlust”
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