A dry land in a dry month–
grey sky, grey stone, grey sand.
Never thirsty, always thirsting
unable to remain; driven
from water to water.
We no longer dream of earth,
but of water, water afar off.
We are dryness incarnate –
Thirst that walks upright.
As we walk we see water,
water everywhere. Water afar off.
Surely the water is who we seek;
What we seek must be in the well,
the well we haven’t yet found,
The well afar off.

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i wrote this during my first year in divinity (fall '76) -- it reflects the searching, the dislocation, that i felt as i began my formation. by second year the journey becomes inward --- even more dislocating and uncomfortable . . .