Nehemiah 1 – 2 – 3
Jerusalem lieth waste,
Her children are scattered,
Her children’s children wander aimlessly,
Searching for any sign of hope.
The fountains have lost their beauty,
The waters are bitter.
The walls of the city have no gates,
Where the gates once were, there are no doors,
All have fallen away,
None have taken the time to restore and repair.
Into the valley they travel,
Past the dunghill, the remnant of past life,
Past the pool where the animals find rest.
Between two mountains they are tossed about,
A mountain of good, secure but foreign;
A mountain of evil, exciting and lurid.
In the valley they wait,
Walking to and fro, from mountain to mountain,
Tasting of the ambiance of each,
Looking for one who will care enough,
To restore them.
At the walls stand a handful of Saints,
Each trying to decide whether to help,
Or to let others live as they will.
Should they reach out to another’s child,
Chance the rebuke and scorn,
Can they make a difference,
Or become a passing trend,
Soon forgotten.
Rebuilding the walls will take so much time,
Establishing the gates difficult,
Placing doors means people to watch them,
People that discern good and evil,
People of integrity that will not compromise.
Jerusalem lieth waste,
Her children’s children have not been taught,
Her children’s children’s wounds have not been tended,
Her children’s children wander aimlessly,
Searching for hope.
A handful of Saints make a decision,
This restoration will take many years,
This restoration will be painful,
This restoration will make a difference,
This restoration will set a standard.
I pick up the first stone and set it in place,
Then another and another,
I hear the laughter and the scorn,
It feeds my intensity.
As the walls strengthen and the doors are set,
The children wander back;
They find security, soundness, protection;
They find safety, boundaries, goals;
They find hope,
They find peace.
Written 2-7-2001
Linda J. Humes 
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