Work of My Hands

The people of the middle-east have been enduring wars for thousands of years. Hear this original poem about the feelings of those who left because of war. Abraham hailed from the city of UR in ancient Iraq. Israel has seen its share of tugging for Jerusalem. Middle-eastern countries feel the tug in a different way, for the oil rich ground.

Work of My Hands©
by J. Kenneth Ezra

Oh to live as descendents of you.

The land in the Fertile Crescent grew.

Your long wavy curves are soft and split to extend.

The top flowing freely effortlessly it ends.

Scattered and dizzy like a lifetime we lost.

Referring to the past with multitudes it cost.

Lion like and lovely, with its head up high.

Your muscles stand tall as seen the bull’s- eye.

Our tongues remember the ancient text.

To clear the way for what is next.

We licked her from head to toe, oh savor every bud

Water now angered a drowning flood.

Where shall we go and who are we?

Our past lives now distant the ground never free.

Watching the warring for her precious hand

A flower of hope will flourish the land.

Take this advice from the people of seeds.

Your appetite for love may lead you to greed.

With it in hand you will hunt her down.

One day to wonder you have no crown.