Jericho

She is just like Jericho Walls of stone so hard and cold. Protecting her from all that might have been. And all the things she won’t show, Sights so wondrous to behold, Are buried somewhere deep beneath her skin. She has built her garden walls A thousand miles wide and tall And there is no way over or around. So, I stand here, looking small To sing my song beside her wall And hope that she might somehow hear the sound. I have tried to catch her eye To see all that she would deny Beyond the lies she says that she believes. There are hints that would imply The tears she’d never ever cry, She’s too afraid of foreigners and thieves. Someday I may find the key To repeat ancient history But until then I wander ‘round her town. She may look, she may see, That tiny voice belongs to me, A hopeful man who stands here on the ground. How I long to find the song To heal her hurts, to right the wrongs. How I wish to free the love she’s bound. I dream that I could make my voice A trumpet blast, a heav’nly noise. That I could make the walls come tumbling down.