Glasses Half Full

a poem on desire

photo by Julia Zolotova on Unsplash

“Stop. Know your desire, know your thirst, and let it lead you to God.” - St. Ignatius of Loyola, adapted by Dale Gish

The window sill waits
holding glistening cool water
daylight pouring in,
glasses half full.

My tongue sticks 
to the roof of my mouth
while words pour out,
clanking, fragile, dry. 

I thirst, you cry.

My soul clings to you.
Do you still thirst
as your right hand upholds me?

I reach for a glass
and drink.
I am parched. 
For I have been in a dry and weary land.

Words flung at rocks -
Sticks striking rocks 
like Moses in the desert
demanding a miracle.

I thirst, you cry.

You pour out of rocks anyway. 
Your words land
softly and sharply.
All at once
ringing and reverberating on
my parched tongue. 

I have left you
half full on my window sill.
I roam,
belly aching for more
while you wait with more
miracles on my window sill.