eight::eight

This world is becoming a desert hospice.
We will soon find ourselves waiting to pass.
We might have moved over the hills
into the promised land,
but gave over our voices
to princes, presidents, prime ministers,
executives and senators.
So now we are wandering and waiting.
But not for the wrath of God,
for God has already granted us pardon
upon openness;
even those once outside have faith.
No, our wrath is our own
in the hands of incompetent and evil powers,
our forgetting right desire
and grasping after whithering things.
We could have had milk and honey,
abundant fruit and bread,
but instead we chose machines
and outgrew the land,
making it desolate and dry.
And if we try? I don't know.
Yet a hospice implies care,
and care is born of love
which births hope, too.
Somehow, though we're waiting to pass,
we are being given life as well.

(Numbers 13:1-2, 25-14:1, 26-29, 34-35, Psalm 106, Matthew 15:21-28)