Downcast eyes and tears and my heart like cupped, pleading,

beggar hands.

Have mercy on me, O Lord.

How long, Father, since I raised the cup to my cracked lips?

Since I beheld the mystery of Your broken body in a piece of bread?

I miss You, dear God, meeting me there.

My body is well fed and my soul is thirsty and hunger-stricken.

It feels like exile.  What are the words You can give to sustain me in this place?

Oh, God, be not long in coming for me upon the waves.

I see You there, on the waves, coming

and, I see the next frame, my face buried in the folds of your garment,

pressed achingly close, your strong arms ’round me.

But I never see the in-between, the rescue, or how long it was

between near-drowning and safe.

Give, Father, oh please, some driftwood upon which I can rest my head

’til You rescue.