Fields Of Subsistence Poem by Stephanie N Kjarbaek

You drew the line. You told me it was time to go
Time to move on, to leave the past as a burning
Caravan abandoned across the desert's distance
Pale faces staring underneath a blacken'd sky
With the shotgun sounds of Bedouin in the
Last moment of armed resistance
And in Your world, there are no borderlines
There are borderlands by the sea for all
And the Red Sea crossing by memory
Guiding the sun to the hills up North
The blossoming fields of subsistance
And those who live on the streets
Who hitchhike down the road
Who stand in the welfare offices
Who are boarded up in the jails
They shall be bed, they shall be provided for
And there shall be no borderlines to cross
Continuous, prosperous fields of green
The harvest that satisfies and feeds
All that have relied upon the desert
In the Horn of Africa for nutrition
The world is now under You
And it is Your landscape
Your dream of neverending flowers,
Olive trees, and birch branches
From the prayers at the Western Wall
And all the noble dreams
From the black scarves of widows grieving
To new life from the womb born out
There is a dream unseen but born
Only of forgotten vengeance and forgiveness
If these hands turn water to wine
Dead flesh to living
Tears of angers to forgiveness
Bread enough to feed the crowd of hungry
Fish to feed all before
Than these hands can heal those
Who still resist.