The seven last words: I thirst

In the wilderness,

between the wadis,

just before first light,

there were

dew-slicked rocks,

drops of moisture set like precious gems

in the folds of tiny leaves:

these helped him live.

 

But there remained a thirst

he could not slake.

It helped him overcome

deadening tedium,

draining acedia,

dizzying temptation,

drove him to heal the sick,

raise the dead,

send the fiends scurrying like rats.

 

To all who thirst, who ask,

he gives the living water.

 

And yet he feels it now,

with every desiccated cell:

this thirst

that will not be assuaged

until he draws all humankind to him

and the kingdom comes.

© Marion Adams 2016

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