Dry Well

A traveler sits before me weary from his journey

And so thirsty

He drops a pail within me only to come up empty

And I'm sorry

 

But I'm a dry well, no water here as you can tell

Maybe he should move along

I know what he needs but I cannot offer anything

I'm thirsty myself

I'm a dry well

 

A woman brings her basket, her children run up faster

For they're hungry

And with hopeful glances they desperately search my branches

For something sweet

 

But I'm a dying tree, no fruit here as you can see

Maybe they should move along

I know what they need but I cannot offer anything

I, too, am hungry

I'm a dying tree

 

How many times have I been unable

To supply the thing they really need

For lack of growth within myself

No filling up, no pouring out

The Spirit's wisdom, truth, and love, and peace

 

Am I a pale light barely breaking through the night

That doesn't last for long

Oh, that I might be a radiant glow, a brilliant beam

An abundant well, a fruitful tree

That they might know me