Grandmother’s Words

When Moses came up to the Sea
Of Reeds, he found himself to be
Trapped in a great predicament
Of sand, beneath God’s firmament.

For Moses and God’s followers
Had come this far – weren’t wallowers
(at least, not yet) in past events,
(those happening before God sent –

Old Moses and his younger bro,
Said “Pharaoh, let my people go”).
But this was new, here at the beach –
The other shore they could not reach.

Then far behind they saw the dust –
Egyptian troops – how could they trust
That Moses had for them “plan-B”
When God told Moses, “Wait-and-see”?

That was by day – and then night fell,
When fire and smoke which they could smell
Descended twixt the troops and them –
A restless sleep for women, men.

The problem? They’d run out of land,
As once before – and often can
Be fate for us as we break out,
When from constriction lies our route.

When morning broke (they’d stayed quite still)
Gods said, “My man”, as oft He will,
“Take up your rod; go to the beach;
Lift up your rod; that way you’ll teach –

“The men and women in your band,
‘There is a way, right where you stand;
And when the time of waiting’s through,
Pay heed – I’ll show you what to do’.

“Like now – lift up your rod and say,
‘We’re moving eastward on our way’;
To obstacle speak forth your word
As it's of Me, you will be heard.”

So Moses went down to the shore
Where Land ran out – they needed more–
And raised his rod, drove back the sea,
On land-Bridge walked, dry as could be.

When they had crossed, smoke blew away;
The troops pursued to have their way–
So focused on their quarry now
They failed to see the trap and how –

A storm blew in, drove water back;
The horses baulked at this attack,
But riders pressed to seize their day,
And drowned because they had their way.

Is there a lesson here and now,
When land’s run out, we’re trapped somehow?
Perhaps – but know, it didn’t last –
Three days of heat wiped out this past –

And folks complained, “Man, this is hot!
We left our homes – look what we’ve got!
Let’s call it off – to slavery
Return again – contented be.”

But they pressed on for forty years
Of desert life, of dust and tears,
Till all had died – their kids not slaves –
Made tough in land beyond the waves.

A relay race – a marathon –
We do our stretch, pass the baton
Off to our kids, till they once more
Run out of land, stand at some shore.

Our part? Our words about that day
When we woke up, God had his way;
It’s not our cute theology,
But touch of God our children see.

“ ‘The Angels stopped the death-squad men;
Let us escape their guns, and then
We came into this land of hope,
Where we at last with life could cope’.

“Such were the words grandmother spoke
To us as kids – in us awoke
Awareness of a world beyond
What’s here now – when land is gone.”

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