This lonely place frightens me.
The desert is so dry and my tears are making
a great salt flat.
The only map was lost, I forgot the way,
now it’s forty years of wandering
without manna,
without even a golden calf for company.
You were here before me—I see traces
of your footprints now and again.
Sometimes I lay in the dirt
just to be close to a thought of You.
You, surviving this place for me.
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