O that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears

Jeremiah 9:1 Thanks, Jeremiah.

My people turn away
from light’s revealing rays,
seeking shadows.
My people stop their ears to the cries
of the lost, of cast-off wanderers,
of the unworthy and the fearful,
preferring pretty ditties of distraction.
My people build dams to hold back tears,
high walls around their hearts;
they refuse to weep or ache.
The thirsting land groans abandoned,
a salty wilderness
where compassion grows limp
and wilts in rising indifference;
a desolate place where justice is found
only by digging deep below dry creek beds.
Truth, falling frail like dew before dawn,
evaporates unvalued and vanishes, unseen
by those who sleep late.
A modern luxury, who can afford?
O that my head
were a spring of water
and my eyes a fountain of tears;
that grace might flow
like a never-ending stream!

© Ken Rookes
A further poem for the coming Sunday can be found here. and here.

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2 thoughts on “O that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears

  1. Pingback: Not lose heart | poemsinseason

  2. Pingback: When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth? | poemsinseason

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