Wander-Land

Pre-Show
House lights up ; stage lights dim, almost dark ; for walk-in music, a low, largely indecipherable, mumbling-rumbling crowd-like sound of the Auld Clootie Chorus, all of its text jumbled and which may be pre-recorded

Opening
As the house lights dim, the Poet takes the podium ; after a longish beat, begins the Prologue. As the Poet begins, the Auld Clootie Chorus dies down.

Prologue (The Poet)

From nothing everything has come.
Not all at once, but for the Word
Which set the dark and calm aflame
In light and motion ; Universe
Of brightness in the blackness came
Nomadic particles, at first,
Till gathering in waves of time
As dust — the stuff of you and me —
Our dust then stars, our migrant stars
Then galaxies, arms spiraling
A-spin, a-swirl with meteors
And comets set to rove and roam,
Wayfarers wandering the void
Until they built this Earth, this home.

First Spoken Interlude (The Poet)

Continents adrift on lakes of fire,
Colliding, separating,
Crinkling into mountain ranges,
Wrinkling in subduction zones,
Building up, tearing down —
Gravity and fire and water,
The wander-lust of earth —
We all are wanderers
Born to this Wander-Land.

I. Made of Motion
The Choir sings :

Our Wander-Land
Is made of motion.
Of sandhill crane,
Of horse and bison ;
Nomads and migrants,
Follow the seasons ;
Sun, moon, and star
For their guidons.

Our Wander-Land
Was made from motion :
In silent stillness
The Word was spoken ;
So came the Light,
So came the Garden ;
Came everything
Out of nothing.
Our Wander-Land
Is made of motion.
Our Wander-Land
Is made of motion.

Second Spoken Interlude (The Poet)

Rocks clattering down mountainsides,
Tumbling into canyons and valleys,
Rolling into stream and river,
Seeking seas and seeking oceans,
Sinking back into the deeps
To rise again as mountaintops.
We are the mountains, first,
Before we are the rocks.

II. We Are
The Wanderers sing:

We are Wanderers,
We are migrants,
We are witnesses,
We are testaments,
We are faithful, true-believers.
We are pilgrims of horizon,
We are mothers,
We are fathers,
We, the children of us all,
In Wander-Land,
This Wander-Land,
Our Wander-Land,
Our Wander-Land.

Third Spoken Interlude (The Poet)

We are the wind
Before we are the song ;
We are the thunder, first,
Before we are the drum ;
We are the swirling planets,
Wheeling, whirling stars,
Before we are tornado, hurricane,
High pressure zone and low ;
We are the wind, before it all.
The order of the UniverseIs motion and migration —
A Wander-Land of changing places,
Changing states and changing faces ;
Rules and regulations shan’t displace
The grace of God’s creation ;
Borders are the enemies of grace.

III. Born to Wander
The Choir sings :

We are the tribe,
We are the tribe
Of wide horizon ;

The wind, our song ;
The sky, our poem ;
The trail, our psalm ;
And foot-steps
Our holy anthem.

We are born to wander,
We are born as travelers ;
We are born to wander,
Bid us welcome.
For every stranger
Is a pilgrim
We are from the tribe
Of wide horizon.

Fourth Spoken Interlude (The Poet)

No evil lives
In the Natural world ;
Evil lives only in us.
When, armed with our grievances,
Wearing our anger for armor,
When then we surrender
Our awe to fear,
Our love to lust,
Our gift to greed ;
When we replace others
With only ourselves,
Then, only then, will evil arise.
Then evil will rise up in us.

Violin Interlude
Instrumental

IV. Exodus
Sung by the Poet and the Choir :

Migrants and immigrants
Ever since the Garden —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.
Fleeing from the Pharaoh
Moses crossed the water —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.
Mary, Joseph, Jesus,
One step ahead of Herod —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

With no place to lay His head,
The Son of man, our Savior —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

We are never any better
Than how we treat the stranger —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

Walking, walking Palestine,
Christ, our Redeemer —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.
In His footsteps, following
Crossing fence and border —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

Nameless, homeless masses,
Frightened, tired, and hungry —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

With no place to lay our heads,
The children of our Maker —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

We are never any better
Than how we treat the stranger —
Exodus, exodus,
Into Wander-Land.

V. All Are Welcome

We are the tribe
Of wide horizon ;
The wind, our song ;
The sky, our poem.
The trail, our psalm,
Our holy anthem
Where all are strangers,
Where all are pilgrims ;
There, all are settlers ;
There, all are welcome.