Posted on April 8, 2013 by Laurie Franklin
I am the desert sand:
Hot sand of mid-day,
Cold sand of clear night.
Feet press into me,
And speak a language I understand.
I feel the joy of dancing, the resolute march of armies,
The fluttering of small children at play.
Always, always footprints press
Then blow away.
Each grain of my sand seeds a saga
In the book of life.
Today, I sense the stance of Sarah
Two feet planted firmly.
Certainty in her position, no wavering.
I feel the shuffling steps of Abraham
Doubt, conflict, pain.
He does not know what to do.
The children romp.
The maidservant trudges through her work.
The wind tickles and lifts.
What will happen today,
On this sandy stage?