Lines

We cross them all the time,
We say
They intrude on our freedom.
They keep us hemmed in,
Not realizing that’s a good thing.

Give us an inch we’ll take a mile,
Children;
We rail against the boundaries,
All the while
Hearts cry for safety.

We build our own fences,
Proudly,
We drive in our own stakes,
On the crumbling edge
Of precipice.

We have hewn cisterns,*
Broken,
Yet you hem us in-behind and before**,
Hinds feet
Upon high places.

*Jer. 2:13
**Ps. 18