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POETRY

“Thirst,” read by Dana Ryan.

Thirst

Hannah wept,
her mouth full of sand
and dry as an empty tomb.
Eli, obviously,
never thirsted like this,
excusing her salt and
aphonic laments
on strong drink, as if liquor
could quench the flame of a
burning womb.

Had I been at the temple
that day I would have tasted
her cracked, arid lips
rounding vowels and consonants
in a desert of speechless grief.
I would have felt
how her eyes swallowed children
with hungry glances
then avoided them like fire.

And I would have kissed
that ignorant old priest for giving
her a cup of hope
because she, so parched from sorrow,
desperately needed a drink.

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Dana writes from Southern California, where she also takes photos of flowers and people and other beautiful things. Her work can be found in The Clayjar Review and The Rabbit Room. 

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Image: Hannah Prays in the Temple (1 Samuel 1: 9-17), William de Brailes, Public Domain. Cropped and modified by Veronica McDonald.