River, a poem

River

Razor wire in the Jordan,
no crossing to the  promised land;
can’t reach across the water,
can’t ever touch its sand.
Moon glistens on the metal,
on each sharp sentry strand;
razor wire in the Jordan,
no crossing to the promised land.

The river lies before us,
our dreams have brought us near;
they say we can’t go over,
they turn us back in fear.
No water in the deserts,
no water for us here;
the dreams have all run empty,
they’ve stolen every tear.

Razor wire in the Jordan,
no crossing to the promised land;
they call us criminals,
they keep the fires fanned.
We look across the river,
and try to understand;
razor wire in the Jordan,
no crossing to the promised land.

No wading in the water,
can’t reach the other side;
no rowing the boat ashore,
milk and honey are denied.
No baptism in this river,
flowing deep and wide;
as seekers we have come
but our prophets lied.

Razor wire in the Jordan,
no crossing to the promised land;
I can journey no further,
I can only stand,
knowing pain awaits
if I reach out my hand;
razor wire in the Jordan,
no crossing to the promised land.

Stephen Brooke ©2024

A poem or maybe a song. I don't usually write topical stuff but the phrase 'razor wire in the Jordan' was irresistible to me.