withering…

When ripped apart, the halves naturally wither... _me

Wither… withering… bending, falling away slowly, draining, loss of life force, alone, hope lost, needy, malnourished, thirsty, a dry land, the desert… withering… wither…

I’ve written of the withering of the widow, the slow decline unto oblivion, walking death. The separation, ripping, of the one into two separate, incomplete parts.

Yet, what puzzles me, is that many live alone, single, a complete whole with only their part. How? Maybe their part never expanded to include the other? The ripping away of another, their self, avoided? I really don’t know… understand… as that has not been my path to explore.  Yet here I am, me, now alone and not two entwined… withering.

The tender, droopy stalks open as they receive water… slowly straightening, raising their leafy arms towards the life-giving sun, with water quenching their thirst, water reviving them, living water.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you will revive me… _{Psalm 138}

Revive… do I dare hope for life again? The true life force, to fill with joy? This hope is a tiny, tiny seed in my being… I hold this hope with all that I am… I wait upon the living water to refresh this being… I wait upon the river of my God in the land of the dry, withering, desert…

I am doing something new; it’s springing up — can’t you see it? I am making a road in the desert, rivers in the wasteland. _{Isa 43}

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