Dry Bones

Ezekiel 37:11  “Our bones are dry, our hope has gone; we are done for.”

Tiredness grounds me
Into a quiet stupor of the spirit.
I yearn to be inspired,
To be lifted up, set free
Beyond the place of deadness.
The struggle goes on, however
And you and I, God,
We exist together with seemingly
Little communion.
Yet, in the deepest part of me,
I believe in you,
Perhaps more strongly than ever.
I am leaning you
As a God of silence,
Of darkness, deep and strong,
I do not wrestle anymore,
Only wait, only wait,
For you to bring my dry bones into dancing once again.

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