The Promised Land

Reflections on human migration.

They marched deep in the jungle

They crossed the swamp and bramble

They were mothers, they were children

Our kin in humankind

 

They were running from oppression

In lands where life is a gamble

They were searching paths of freedom

They were seeking specks of hope

 

They sang the songs of freedom

They cried the tears of hope

They were dreaming of the end

When would reach the Promised Land

 

They marched through barren hills

They endured the scorching sun

Mind and body sucked dry by pain

That would make most folks insane

 

Children’s screams they became louder

Tears poured down their mothers’ eyes

Still the weary helped the lame

For unwavering was their aim

 

They sang the songs of freedom

They cried the tears of hope

The stranger became friend

Dreaming of the Promised Land

 

We kept watching on the wide screen

To us seemed a threatening crowd

With fear our heart was tense

We screamed, let’s build a fence

 

They were soon all apprehended

Treated like wild beasts of prey

Children torn from mothers’ breasts

Inside pens they took their rest

 

 

They sang the songs of freedom

They cried the tears of hope

They couldn’t comprehend

Such a soulless Promised Land

 

They pleaded for compassion

They sought our understanding

They hoped that we would care

They wept, crushed by despair

 

We stayed seating on church benches

Kneeling on the wooden pews

Thanking God he raised his hand

To keep safe our homes and land

 

They sang the songs of freedom

They cried the tears of hope

They sang hand holding hand

Dreaming still the Promised Land