The Holy Land

In the land, there is a wall
A wall of paper and stones
Where people gather every day
And put away their phones

I entered in past the gate
Where all the women sing
I did not know a single word
But still, my heart did ring

The women did not seem to care
That we were not the same
They grabbed us all by the hands
And we all sang out His name

I realized then and I realize now
That prayer does not just flow
from my hymns or from my songs
But with those women I know

In the land, there is a dome
A big one made of gold
Full of colors and designs
Full of life yet old

I walked inside the worship place
found in the place next door
My shoes were left right outside
My bare feet touched the floor

I saw a man and his son
The boy was learning to pray
They did it together in harmony
The movements done in their way

I realized then and I realize now
That I see my own family in others
It does not have to be the same faith
To pray like fathers and mothers

As I prepared to leave and make an end
Of my journey here in this land
I thought of all the beautiful places
And knew I had felt God’s hand

I know that prayer is not one style
Or song or movement or place
It is solely based on one desire
To receive and feel God’s grace

A prayer can come from a piece of paper
Placed in the cracks of the wall
Or from kneeling on a beautiful rug
While listening to the call

The language of prayer is the language of God
Who has no limits or bounds
It extends past all religions and people
And His love in us abounds