Hiking an unfamiliar path,
I stare at the parched ground and realize:
I am thirsty, too.
I am thirsty for a hug from a friend,
Thirsty for a room of voices raised in song,
Thirsty for a high five from a kid who’s scored a goal.
Thirsty for the chatter in a neighborhood café.
It is a thirst more than the thirst for water.
I see friends across a parking lot,
I leave a gift on someone’s front door steps.
I wave through a computer screen,
I open a handwritten note from the mail.
These interactions feed my soul and thirst,
but only– only — just
touch the surface, like sucking on ice chips
when you really want a tall cold drink.
And yet I know what happens when rain falls
Too quickly over dry parched ground,
The flood does much more harm than good
To wash away the life it came to save.
So I will wait for now
And quench my thirst