The Song

“My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”

– Isaiah

Come, let us go

to the house of all prayers,

where the thirsty are given clean water,

and the hungry are fed, and the air

is as fresh as the first morning light,

where nobody is right,

cause nobody is wrong,

where you walk through the door

and hear the sound of a song…

there’s a wall to the east

where all instruments hang –

there’s one waiting for you,

and for me, in the jam

in which rhythms and voices

and languages merge

into one universal hymn,

old as the earth

come, let’s go now

to that house of all people,

that place where we all can dance in our own way,

and pray, and give thanks

for the ones who kept living,

and whispering

the vision

of this home,

this day.