The land of the Living

For you have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears,my feet from stumbling;
I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.Psalm 116:8-9

Land of the Living

The lines wrapped around linoleum
glass windowed officials turning away
calling numbers never mine
never the right paper work never
the correct identity never a welcome here.

The smell of anxious waiting people wanting
license or plates the civil servants control
we, the mass of hopeful victims try to be
civil try to be patient try to understand.

Warm air and screaming children a cauldron
of lines and scarred benches all slumping
staring and nervous movement swarms of hopes
creepy fluorescent reality.

How quickly small indignities make life sour
how easily we slip on betrayal and wounds
we ache to be loved and have no compassion
for our fellow travelers.

Laughter rings out and God restores
water falls like soft spring rain
and the broken dreams of youth regain
their breath and live again.

May we dance in the rain and sing in quay
may the long lines be only portals
not our final destinations
and may we be blessed to hear the sounds
of God's joy resounding as we laugh
and make stranger smile for the first time.