Let us go forth in the power of the resurrection.
Not in the basket or the empty canteen.
Forsaken by proverbs unheard and unseen.
Neither by river nor rising to hills.
But in the open palms that we hope to be filled.
Fill them with the sands that we find within view.
The driftwood discovered that’s not lost its hue.
A grain shaped and drawn out to pull my eyes from what was to what’s new.