The Desert

You know, sometimes we poets feel so strongly about a piece that we get swallowed by the emotions it causes, and we rush to publication, wanting to share it with others so they too can swim in the deep feelings it causes. Then, after some time, we read the poem again and realize it wasn’t ready at the time of posting. Well, after much rewriting, and after identifying “Him” as “Jesus,” the poem seems to flow much better. I loved being caught up in the Spirit and composing this piece. Now I can be somewhat proud of it. I hope you enjoy reading it, and I welcome any feedback you may have.

The Accidental Poet

He stood, sweating, gazing over the vastness
of what looked like nothingness; hot, glaring,
monochromatic landscape, broken only by an
occasional dune. His eyes batted against the
stinging bits of sand encircling his head as He
tried to catch His breath. He was, after all, Jesus
in a mortal body.

He was hungry. He had not eaten for the past
forty days. He caught sight of an approaching
figure surrounded by piercing light. The desert
floor began to vibrate. The figure was enormous
in size, and seemed to exude tremendous power.

As if reading His mind, the figure said, “Tell
these stones to become bread.” In response,
Jesus took a confident breath and said, “It is written:
‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every
word that comes from the mouth of God.'”
Although Jesus stood his ground, the figure reached
toward Him and whisked Him away.

Now…

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