Another piece I wrote back in 2004 but adapted for use in a retreat last week.
From slavery to freedom:
A long road through the desert.
No short-cuts but
Made longer by a lack of trust
And a longing for the past;
Pots of meat at the end of a day...
Ah! The good old days…
It may have been slavery,
but at least you got your supper.
But despite their disobedience
and their grumbling
You travelled with us.
We thought we carried you in a box
But you carried us in the palm of your hand
You provided for us
You protected us
You fought for us
Stood behind us to guard our backs
Went ahead of us to blaze the trail
You pitched your tent in our midst.
A tent
Not a temple
But a tent
A temporary stopping place
On the long road
From slavery to freedom.
A long road through the desert.
No short-cuts but
Made longer by a lack of trust
And a longing for the past;
Pots of meat at the end of a day...
Ah! The good old days…
It may have been slavery,
but at least you got your supper.
But despite their disobedience
and their grumbling
You travelled with us.
We thought we carried you in a box
But you carried us in the palm of your hand
You provided for us
You protected us
You fought for us
Stood behind us to guard our backs
Went ahead of us to blaze the trail
You pitched your tent in our midst.
A tent
Not a temple
But a tent
A temporary stopping place
On the long road
From slavery to freedom.
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