Forty Days

Forty days with the wild beasts alone And the mind's chatter of words and fear, Waiting in silence no company but his own With only the memory of the clear Water running off his cheek, dripping from hair, When the Spirit descended as a dove to alight How The Voice thundered, split the air, "You are my beloved son in whom I delight."

What did he in that boring waste learn? That he would later seek solitude to pray? Was it to hear again, in memory return, Bathe in the blessing of what his Father did say? How can I hear that word, the blessing from above When I'm screened from solitude, intimacy, and love?

© Randy Edwards 2017. This sonnet is for Christ’s church. If it is helpful, please feel free to copy or reprint in church bulletins, read aloud, or repost. I only ask that an attribution be cited to myself (Randall Edwards) and this blog (backwardmutters.com). Thanks Artwork: Christ in the Wilderness, by Ivan Kramskoy, Google Cultural Institute.jpg, Created: 31 December 1871 #sonnet #christianity