from the stones

Morning time for a dream
when the covers are undone,
dawn beams through a window
and light captures the eyes.

A long night has passed
since we closed time with prayer
and the dream that kept us
wakes into the cool fresh day.

Morning time for the vision
from then to now; and how we slept
uneasy in fitful  starts,
for the head rests uneasy
on the unfinished path.

Day brings proof
of so much that has gone before,
from rocking boats to rocking cradles,
and the mother's hope;
the long climb to the mountaintop
as the prophets said, to see the joy of life.

We wait for heaven, for the things not done
would make spirits weary; we wait...
to fly into a glorious night upon winds
that changed a world. When righteous
love will be written on temple walls
and none will be ashamed to stand
in the places fates have given

for the things we share are the bread
and blood of life, may only be held
in the helping hand, be seen
in the eyes of forgiveness;
possessed by spirit that brought us this far;
justice raised from stones,
equality as the air we breathe;
and freedom flowed like a mighty stream.