your love is gone, but there is heat
where once only the past would beat
between my ribs and in my eyes:
a future that both frees and ties.

the natives are all easily come
to a god whose fire breaks the numb:
a native fear is simply razed
to be replaced with nameless praise.

if job was old before his time,
if jonah met fate in the brine,
then i too take the stony walk
and learn to heed my harkening heart.

in the desert, in a barn,
i set up my own rocky cairn.
here lies the lost, the dead, the calm
not seeking or finding gilead's balm.