Saturday, April 28, 2012


what strange god is this that
beckons us out into the desert to die
out of the comfort of our bondage

and keeps giving and giving
though we keep mistaking him for
our own complaining lips

we cannot rest, we cannot be still
oh, children, hear his voice
because we heard and are still deaf

the blood keeps rising on our hands
the smoke keeps rising from the tent
maybe some day we will be redeemed

and enter into the land of our enemies


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