The Wilderness Speaks

We walked on sand with no map drawn,
No home, no throne, just dawn to dawn.
The stars above were silent still
But hope burned quiet, against our will.

No bread but falling ash each night,
No fire but His hidden light.
The wilderness was not our grave
But ground where only trust could stay.

We learned the voice behind the wind.
We drank the word carved deep within.
When all was dry, and flesh was weak
Still… the wilderness could speak.

The wilderness speaks — not with ease, not with rain.
It speaks in the silence, in hunger, in flame.
We wander, we wait — not cursed but called.
He is still near… though the signs are small.

Forty years to forget Egypt's name.
Forty days for a Prophet to claim.
Every exile births a Word
Every silence... still is heard.

The wilderness speaks — in breath and break.
In steps we take for promise's sake.
Not lost, not left — we're being made…
By dust, by fire… by slow parade.

Still walking…
still learning…
still held…

The silence…
is not empty…
it echoes.