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Poem

Wilderness need not be avidly dry.
It can contain shades of uplifting memory.
Sweet drops of whisperings fly
around souls who, 
desert-bound and tied to circumstance, 
retreat into spaces 
of such empty aloneness it seems 
never again 
will ways out of crystallized mazes where 
reigns abject silence 
ever be found to bring freedom again.
Yet Wilderness need not be overly feared.
It becomes productive under love's challenge.
Prone to arise out of aimless places 
and grazing on sighs 
of pain are the tiniest grains of gone loves 
growing lonely with wait,
and as shadows of smiles permeate minds 
in Wilderness-Land, 
remembering to contact angelic unseen
means certain survival.
Despite blood-red pain of sudden ends 
look inward and find dim 
streaks of light birthing changes for 
hope lost in Wilderness, 
watch black holes shine after saline ebb
then as tides of tears 
begin to recede know grief's despair 
will grow no more weeds, 
flowers of assurance unfurl their truth
that love's journey 
goes on, deserts will blossom with many
a welcome reunion,
for heaven;s arrangement never denies
access to askers for proof.
Wilderness dies when souls feel not alone.
Coping with sorrow means climbing its hills.

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