Thoughts, Prayers & Art

(Inspired by Luke 20:9–19)

I stood in the vineyard at dawn,
and the soil was not soft with dew,
it was stained.
With blood, with ash,
with the silence of prophets
buried beneath bureaucracy.

The vines were twisted with sorrow.
Children’s laughter did not echo here.
Only sirens.
Only boots.
Only the sound of walls
being built higher
than hearts can reach.

And the Owner,
God,
keeps sending servants.

They come with scrolls of mercy,
with hands full of justice,
with voices trembling
but true.

And one by one,
they are dismissed,
discarded,
destroyed.

Then came the Son.

Not with vengeance,
but with tears.
With love so unreasonable,
it made kings rage
and empires tremble.

They dragged him outside the gates.
As if Love had no place
in the vineyard anymore.

But a stone thrown aside
became a cornerstone.

And I,
a tenant trembling in my clerics,
a mother watching the world bruise her children,
a priest aching for every soul under siege,
I cling to that stone.

I plant seeds
in burnt ground.
I lift prayers
like cracked chalices.
I call out to every heart
still awake:

Tend the vineyard.
Not for power.
But for peace.
Not for gain.
But for God.

This land was never ours.
It belongs
to the Beloved.