All my vision is darkness.
I am broken in Your hands –
fragments of a shattered bowl
or a blasted tree, or dried stream –
all service to You destroyed.
I wait with You in silence,
and You bring to me
the contrast of Your vision:
Within Your hands, these shards
are soon a new creation.
Not burned but winter branches
on the brink of Spring;
no abandoned, dusty ditch but
a channel waiting to be filled.
Lord, grant me Your vision of light.
— Christine Rigden
