Today, blue is a dusk-purple sunrise
shaken by wind,
cloudy
with a chance of—?
Rain. No, I wouldn’t call it that.
Not from where I come from.
But here,
just a spattering of
little holes left in the sand,
a thumbprint’s depth
is all.
But here I take your hand,
walk where a coyote
shimmies up under the fence,
trotting off,
eyes darting.
He’s confident he’ll find prey here.
I should be so confident
you always provide
what I need.
And if you don’t,
and I die,
I die
provided for.
I am always in your hands.
I don’t believe this is all there is
any more
than I am all there is.
I didn’t create this breath in my lungs
or the lungs which breathe it,
didn’t create this dust
which matches my skin—
cells blowing away into
the atmosphere.
I didn’t create my own life—
that’s your job.
I am to live it—that’s mine.
And to you my life will go
when it’s done.
This sand, this dust
I am
to I AM.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
I AM: Exodus 3:14, John 8:58
“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” Daniel 3:17-18
“For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His.” Hebrews 4:10