when the cup is filled
finally filled
or the river bursts its banks: a joyful flow sweeping past
or the rain tenderly falls, with exquisite gentleness
the thirsty weep with relief
having tears to spare, now that they can drink deeply
they look back at the exodus, the lost wandering
and can even feel grateful
blessing the dry memories with compassionate hindsight
from the shady oasis
they wonder at the grace, the sacred gifts
they treasure each subtle touch
they breathe in the affirmation, reflect, praise.
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