Streams in the Negeb
by Mary Boyde Funches
Our drying land and cracking skin is grieving.
The thirsty air evaporates our tears
To salt before they fall. The desert leers
And inches close, its desiccation cleaving
Quickly into the quick of flesh, leaving
Raw, crusty cuts. The drought, unquenched, careers
Through once-green stalks with yellow scythe and clears
The chlorophyll. We mourn our shattered sheaving.
Lord, hear our cry for restoration! Our song
Is only sorrow and the stream you gave
Is gone. The tree well-planted withers, wilts
From Life-water loss, wracked from sum of guilts
Too many to wash in this poor trickle, grave
Our situation. For your grace we long.
Mary Boyde Funches is an aspiring poet and speech-language pathologist from the Pacific Northwest.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy