Water and God

Water and God

When I am thirsty

In my rich, rich life

You are an open tap

Spilling out

A generous stream

To fill my clean glass. 

Every time

I reach out my hand,

You are there,

Sweet and pure,

In endless measure. 

At the end of my day,

I sink by inches

Into a steaming bathtub

Where you soothe my muscles

And relax my mind. 

You surround me. 

Sometimes. 

When I live

In a poor, dry land,

I walk far

With weary feet

To find you

And bring home

A small measure of your goodness,

All that I can carry

In this yellow container

Atop my head.

Enough for today,

You sustain me

Until

Generosity builds a well

In my dirt-street village,

And I feel you pour over

My head and hands,

Washing me

In a new flood. 

Sometimes. 

When I hike through

Deep, wild woods

Far from houses

And civilized folks,

I find you

In a pond or stream. 

You bubble in my tea kettle

Over a camp fire

In the evening 

As I sit and ponder

The trail I blazed today. 

Every impurity

Boils away,

And you pour into my cup,

Filling it,

Releasing all of the sweet, spicy goodness

Of hot chai tea. 

I drink you down

In warm, rich sips

As I savor my journey

And rest from the day's travel. 

Sometimes. 

In rain clouds and puddles,

In mountain springs and creeks,

In faucets and sewers,

In man-made lakes,

In ice caps and ice cubes,

In tide pools and plastic bottles,

You are everywhere. 

Easy or hard to find,

You are there. 

You sustain us. 

You cleanse us. 

You comfort us. 

You grow us. 

You give life to the world. 

Without you,

We are withered,

Thirsty,

Dirty,

And

Dry. 

We seek you. 

We find you. 

We live. 

We are thankful.