muir clear water

Muir Trail Photo by Trevor Peterson

Psalm 42


Parched, my rattled spirit

Flops on the rocky bank

Like the speckled Browns my dad used to  hook,

Languishing, oxygen deprived.

Except mine is a desperate thirst for hope.


I used to swim in magical pools.

Quiet eddies and refreshing rivulet

My happy domain.

Darting, frolicking,

Meandering in pleasant, riverine existence.

Suspended in, surrounded by

Cool, clear waters of joy.


But now, “The Very Hard” has infiltrated my pellucid environ,

Multiple, polluted feeders have altered

The generous balance once enjoyed.

A brackish quality skews perception,

As the once crystalline pool clouds.


In this murky climate,

I do well to inhale slow,

And ease the frantic flailing.


Instead, focus memory, recount, and choose

From a multitude of sunlit, easier days.

When flourishing fell easy on me,

Like the nourishing provision of honey-sweet manna,

Without such a fight.


Drink it in.

Let it soothe drought-dry sensibilities

With the memory of joy

From His fountain of faithfulness.


And now I must learn anew.

I will watch for,

Learn by heart,

Commit to memory,

Any and all  provisions you stock

Within these turbid waters.


This is the only way to

Slack the thirst or find my course.

Hopeful  prayers sigh supplications

Punctuated by appreciations,

That I may yet again revel in clear waters.


kpeterson     february 2013

muir waterfall

Muir Trail Photo by Trevor Peterson

This entry was posted in Call to be Courageous, Hunting for Hope, Nature Speaks, Solace and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Thirsty

  1. Dad says:

    By the way, ….”USED to hook”???

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