“Our Custom’s Folk” (sic)
On coming home through customs lines, I thought
At first, great fear, like “Something wrong I brought?”
Or like that fellow in the place we went
“That’s bad address” – would we back home be sent?!Thought came to me, as we were coming home –
It’s not for me they’re watching (I just roam
The southern climes, and with my grandchild play);
They keep us safe, keep nasty-types at bay.So I relaxed – they probed, and poked, and searched;
Then waved us on, x-rayed each case and purse;
Then x-rayed us, (whatever’s on their mind?);
Some job they have – strange way of being kind.Barbed wire, and walls; bars, gates, and power lines,
Protect some folks in compounds, schools at times;
We have them too – but at our border-gates
Manned by these folks, who with their questions wait.For there is evil – lots around us all;
It’s been that way since day of Adam’s fall;
A mix we are – both good and bad in us –
We see our good, their bad – hence all this fuss.Thanks Holy Spirit for this.
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