Lost in a windswept land,
in a world of shifting sand,
a fragile flower stands apart.

And there in that barren ground
listen hard, you might hear the sound—
the still soft scream of its weeping heart.

When the weight of time does wear
the flower’s roots stand strong and bear.
The petals wilt but refuse to die.

Somehow the flower’s faith remains.
Its Master’s strength pours down like rain.
God but hears this flower’s every cry.

As the lonely days roll on
and the sun rises to a future dawn,
true hope shines bright upon its pleas.

The frail flower will survive the storm;
stem bent—leaves scratched and torn,
yet holding forever firm in the breeze.

* Previously published in anthology ("In Other Words," released in 1994).