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| original artwork - Keith Wallis |
We sang of a green hill
in our churches
and chapels,
our four walled
comfort castles.
We sang of a faraway green hill
which was not green
but scrubby,
dusty, rocky
exposed and bleak.
If it were a colour
it would be red:
red with anger,
red with blood-lust.
Red with fear,
red with tears
red with the mist
that covers eyes.
It was not a green hill faraway
but the desolate place
in our hearts
that longs
for
Easter morn.
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