Can You Dig It?

We grow weary digging wells
To have them filled up
By our enemies,
While those who are full and holy
Gather in the echo chamber:
“It is well. It is well with my soul;”
“You cannot dwell, just do well.”
Still, my lips are parched,
And my heart is a stone
Without a trace of living water.
Dig there then, you fool!
You’ve been digging in the wrong place,
All this time.

What? That means . . . my life!
Aren’t I in charge of what happens to me?
How’s that working out for you?
You beat to the time of death.
He grants life, so He will help you dig.
Now are you going to pick up a shovel or what?

Posted in Perspective, Poem for Your Day, Poetry