by Lori Hershberger
Light bleeds from the evening sky, and I know
Somewhere the morning dawns. The wind rises
Rustling the skirts of the brittle drought. The dust stirs.
Abide with me, fast falls the eventide;
Smoke grays the hills and smuts the colors
Of the sunset that stream on the parched forest;
The heat of the day flees on silent feet and dusk lowers.
The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide;
Birdcalls echo from deepening shadows,
And the rasps of crickets rise. Smoke from the fire
Drifts, and rice simmers in the blackened pot.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Night falls. The starlit watches call forth the ache
As the world rests beneath the spangled dome.
Deep calls unto deep.
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Lori Hershberger is an absent-minded EFL teacher in the hills of Mae Hong Son province, Thailand, where she lives with her cat and wishes she had 9 lives too.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy