We were the only family to survive on the scorched plains. We had no need for fences because there was no livestock or wildlife. We dug a well, which produced only lifeless sand. Without water, planting crops was pointless. And, we had no seed. Only sun.
Our windows had no panes, the doorway but a pointless passageway for visitors who never came. The wind had ceased to carry the songs of the robin or the nocturnal howling of the coyotes.
We fed on prayers lifted from our childhood, and drank from the vessels of our faith.
Perhaps He will come tomorrow.