Lord, I lift up to You this fervent plea

That if in any way

I am a dusty bottle lying on some shelf,

Unused and empty,

Covered with the residue of years,

That You take me in Your hand

And wipe me off,

No matter what that means,

No matter what that takes,

And turn the open end of me

Up to Your fountain's flow

That I might be filled,

Be a container that...contains...

And not some empty shape of glass

Lying to the side of life.

Then take my sparkling fullness, Lord,

And pour me out

Where there is thirst,

Where there is need of drink,

That I might be spent

In places dry and cracked,

Parched with lack of You.

Undust me, Lord.




By Jo Anzalone 1-19-2007