Ezekiel’s Cry by Thomas Martin Sobottke

Walking through the long deep valley,
Shadows of death amidst dry bones
My children lost to me,
here they lie.

No ears to hear
No eyes to see
No hearts to feel
No fingers to touch.

Justice long denied,
The chase for thirty pieces of silver
Power for the powerful
War for the sake of war.

A nation forsaken,
Its touchstone buried deep
beneath the rubble of dry bones
I thirst.

Ezekiel’s cry,
for he prophesies
what the Lord commands,
Israels reborn
among dry bones.

From the four winds
comes the great breath,
so the multitude may stand
flesh and sinews knit
now flesh and blood
in life and health.

To hear
To see
To feel
To touch.

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