Lord, you see the desert landscape of my soul-
I sit in the blistering heat, and I lean into the dust.
Send your rain clouds to gather and
pour down the deluge of your mercy.
Give me the gift of tears.
Lord, you see how I grow thorns of resistance-
I resist drawing near to you. I resist allowing
others to get close to me. I’m afraid you may change
me through them, and I’ll lose myself.
Tenderize me with the gift of tears.
Lord, I choose the way of the yucca–
her fruit makes her staff bow low and humble, touching the earth.
I desire the fruit of love– so I must bend and even break.
Let the clay pots in my soul be smashed
and leak the sweetness of my tears on your feet.