Where, O Lord, is that
Land of Your promise,
The one flowing with milk
And with honey?
Broken and distant,
Covered in fragments,
We buzz like honeybees,
But make nothing.
We ache to belong,
And partake of the good,
Not only to blossom,
But bear fruit.
We give of our wombs,
Yet labor in vain,
Our creative
Endeavors upended.
Forty years in the desert,
‘Tis idols and fear.
Lord, teach us
To cycle in grace?
To BECOME as You are,
we return to Your Name,
And bask in the light
of Your face.
Roll away the reproach,
We’ve carried along.
Pour oil down upon us
At Gilgal.
When we’re filled up again,
We’ll go out from this place,
To bind up the hearts
Of the wounded.
We’ll join Your assembly,
With joy of heart.
In honeypots and wine vats,
we present you.
*Original Poetry by Kerry Hasenbalg
Wow, wow, wow. What line can I say back, what to emphasize, what flower to pick when it’s a garden overflowing? Of prose, I knew you were a master, but of poetry too? A psalm. Of this, Asaph would take note, as do I. More, please, as the Spirit moves.
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That is high praise, especially coming from you, Hyatt, a mentor to me in the field of beautiful words and color displays.
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I agree with Hyatt. I had already fell in love with your prose, how wonderful it is to now fall in love with your poems!
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