In a sunlit slice of ancient time, where tales find their crest,
We disciples stood witness, to a faith truly put to the test.
There, amidst the footprints of sand and sounds of the divine,
The Canaanite woman’s voice rose, her destiny to entwine.

“Son of David!” she called, her voice breaking the morn,
Yet to us, it felt like an echo, a sound long-worn.
This woman of another land, with hopes in her eyes,
Approached us with urgency, under the vast desert skies.

“We have our mission,” we whispered, doubting her plea,
To the ears of our Rabbi, our guide, could this really be?
“Send her away,” our voices echoed, she wasn’t our kind,
Yet, within her persistence, a greater truth she’d find.

He spoke of the lost sheep, His words deliberate and slow,
Of boundaries, of purpose, of missions we had to know.
But her resilience, unwavering like the staunchest tree,
“Even dogs get the crumbs,” she retorted, setting her spirit free.

Her words spun around us, a whirlwind of might,
Challenging perceptions, bringing shadows to light.
She wasn’t of our fold, not of Israel’s line,
But her faith? Oh, it shimmered, pure and divine.

Through our eyes, her story is more than just lore,
It’s a challenge, a lesson, an opening door.
A call to see beyond borders, to hear the heart’s plea,
To recognize faith, wherever it might be.

For sometimes, in our certainties, our vision goes dim,
Blinded by prejudice, we overlook the hymn,
Of souls seeking salvation, hands raised to the skies,
Learning from that Canaanite woman, to truly empathize.

In a world of divisions, of walls built so high,
May we remember her voice, her faith’s undying cry.
For in the vast tapestry of humanity’s grand tome,
It’s love, understanding, and faith that guide us home.