storms

even the storms in the desert are dry.

 

wind racing in off the ocean, whistling through palm branches, throwing sand against already brown facades

 

the rolling in of gray clouds, a tease of rain that won’t fall but will roll out across the ocean, returning drops to the already churning seas and leaving the winds to rattle through the dusty desert once more

 

sometimes life storms can feel like that in the desert too

hollow

rattling

bent over bracing

the tease of relief makes the dry cracks feel deeper

 

and just when you think the winds are too strong and the clouds will never break, you feel the strong press of a hand around yours

hands holding hands

a circle of strength

bracing the wind together

 

from this ring of community, the prayers rise up

cries for a new kind of wind,

a wind that stirs up dry bones and ushers in new life

a whirlwind of mighty strength and power

that will carry away the old and make way for the new

 

and as the words are carried heavenward, the tears fall down

the clouds finally breaking

drops settling into dust around feet

seeping into cracks and watering seeds buried deep

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