To Glory

From desert heat they perish, parched and glum.
Bare, blinded, and abused they wander long
To quench their thirst; if only they could numb
The sweltering pain and find their long-sought song.

In utter darkness desperate children grope
For something they can’t even name or dream.
Eternity inside demands they hope;
In whom or what, though, yet remains unseen.

Through blinding snow they wander, end unknown,
Without much expectation warmth exists,
Much less that it awaits to soothe the drone
Of violent wind and heal frostbitten fists.

Attuned to their last cry he takes each hand
And leads them through the trial to Glory Land.