When they told you tales of a promised land,
did they tell of the people who lived there?
Did they tell you of the chosen who went before you?
of the people who worked the land;
who cared for it till it flowed with milk and honey?
As I stumbled blind out of the desert,
I fell onto the shoulders of giants.
A strong people, a resilient people.
A loving people.
and they welcomed me in under rainbow banners
a land covered by a godly promise to never again
a promise to end hostility and honour life
A land for which I could prosper.
And they bore good fruit.
but no grape, pomegranate, or fig could help you see past your privilege.
for every 2 fruits, 10 seeds of doubt were planted.
and fear took root in the hearts of a generation.
painted this land with broad strokes and dark tones
A muddy composition of slippery slopes, monsters, and deception.
nothing but the air of deceit between a desert people and their paradise.
Wandering with nothing in their way but their own hubris
A bird trapped in an open cage.
40 years in the blistering heat can change a man
break hearts of stone into founts of life
or melt plowshares into swords used to conquer.
You, Oh church,
I hoped you would be the former
but you continue to entertain these thoughts of war,
while innocent lives are lost in your struggle for power.
Flooding this earth with blood and destroying this land with your own two hands.
What will be left in the wreckage?
How long must you pretend to fight on the side of justice?
When will you see your judgment for what it truly is?
all the while calling this freedom dangerous,
when all we want to do is dance.
When they told you tales of this promised land,
did they tell of the people who died here?
Did they make mountains out of molehills and heroes out of tyrants
Did they tell you fairy tales or monster stories
of the people who worked the land,
who paid for it with their lives that you might prosper here today?
Did they tell you their stories?