The Promised Land
Breathless water, overcome with eagerness,
rushes down rock-strewn hills
bearing brimming life to thirsty plants
waiting patiently in the sun,
bringing flowers for children,
forget-me-nots for lovers-and bread.
Blood, sweat and tears water stony fields around the globe.
Time and time and time again
fertile gardens did create burning envy,
rousing greed, yielding death and destruction.
We slough off parts.
We surrender parts to comfort, parts to fear,
parts to cruel steel, fire and ashes.
Remnants, life-forces flowing on,
make fertile others’ potentialities.
There is the one place, promised long ago,
remembered in our minds,
remembered with our bodies
remembered with our treasure,
a garden neglected as we were driven
to the far outskirts of the circling globe,
remembered as we tended others’ heritage
wherever we were flung.
Abandoned gardens turned to swamp and desert,
desolate rock-bound hills and forlorn valleys
despised by all but we-
always remembered,
dreamt of -that “land of milk and honey”.
Here we make our stand.
Here our swamps are drained,
our deserts made to bloom.
Once barren hills now shimmer
and shine with the green of growth.
The ranges of our habitations explode
to decorate the barren slopes,
sparkling with the creative genius of our heritage.
Back to back we stand
withstanding the greed and envy of what we build.
Here our epic story flowers and flourishes
on once stony ground reborn as a garden,
rebuilding a vision of the world’s Eden.
Here we die if need be,
or live, if blessed be,
giving new life to our Promised Land.