Shouting, they shall mount the heights of Zion,
they shall come streaming to the LORD’s blessings:
The grain, the wine, and the oil,
flocks of sheep and cattle;
They themselves shall be like watered gardens,
never again neglected.
—Jeremiah 31:12
We have had the nights of weeping
and the prophecies of doom,
had the days of wide-eyed sleeping,
walking through a drifting gloom.
Yet the endless springs are seeping
into furrows, into tombs:
We shall blossom in his keeping
like a garden in full bloom.
Some have plowed and others planted—
he has worked our waiting earth;
sunk his hands into the land here,
seed, himself, in death and birth;
and the mercy he has granted
feeds us like a secret source.
He has tilled and we shall answer
with abundance springing forth.
Oh, but now the fields are barren,
bleaching gray beneath the sun,
as we dread to hear the sirens—
waiting ended, war begun.
Still the gardener is preparing
for the harvest yet to come:
Even now the seeds are stirring;
even now his mercies run.
A la Nasir al-Mulk Mosque o Mesquita Rosa, By Joan Simon from Barcelona, España – A la Nasir al-Mulk Mosque o Mesquita Rosa, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=48223889
Kate Bluett 