A poem inspired by Ezekiel 37

Photo by RODNAE Productions from Pexels

I am dry bones, brittle and weak
Waiting, Lord — to hear you speak.

I am dry bones, scattered and broken
Hoping, Lord — for my heart to awaken.

Come, Lord, come.

I am dry bones, dead inside
My life overcome by an evil tide.

But you, O Lord, Your…