Hollow as a reed,
empty of the hoard,
wealth of silence,
rock of faith.

Live this life
with thirst,
scraped bare
for the rising.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7 Responses

  1. In my current crisis of faith a voice whispers, “The rising will not come.” Nevertheless, I must remain scraped bare, hollow as a reed.

    Thanks, Don.

  2. Just finished reading “The Irish Girl” and it was truly a “burn” into my heart sharing your journey. Well thought out, composed and written. Thank you for sharing so intimately.

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