Promised Land

We look towards the westward wind
to find our dream somewhere.
We think fresh fields are greener
than the ones that we posses.
We think we can find the promised land
the further we travel away.

We look and think these things
without realizing we have it all.
Being who we are,
being where we are,
for there are millions who think
our land is the promised land.

20 September 2010

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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