I thought the cup of my heart had dried
It was the stricken sand of a savannah riverbed, caught in the dry death of summer
There were fissures and ruptures and blackness and dust
Zigzagging across a scarred surface
I had no more courteousness or grace to pour out.
But over and over again, my loved ones came to fill
They gave a love like liquid - languid, generous, and kind
They gave the strength of time - patient, listening, and rich
I found the barren soil of my self being nourished
Slowly soaking in the care to fuel my strength
Slowly tending to the light that will one day bloom and give.
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