Skipping a Beat

Skipping a Beat

(“For this people's heart has grown dull, and with their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed.” Acts 28:27a)

How long will we lock ourselves into
concrete cells,
midnight caverns,
armed boundaries where we shoot
on sight and ask no questions?
How long will we delight in
creating enemies,
launching missiles,
holding on to land that belongs
to no one? Why do we draw
butcher knife lines?
Why do we nail signs to the wall
that keep people out on the coldest
night of the winter?
Why do we aim at targets
only to practice
shedding blood on the property we
say we own?

The end will not come because
you are chosen;
the apocalypse is below your feet.
The second coming is the defeat of
death, of idiotic killing, of insanity
unleashed in the name of allegiance and
national anthems. The match you lit,
the tiny flame,
sets the wilderness on fire while you speak
of holy things. You utter sacred words like
they are your private language.

There are better prayers. Leave the
hell behind, the place you have consigned for
oh
so
many who never said an
unkind word about you.

Father forgive us, and we know this is dangerous,
just like we have forgiven those we believe have
never forgiven us.

Standing aside for just one day, maybe we
can pack every imagined target away. Maybe
we can invite the opponent to stay for the evening,
drink wine late into the night,
and let the cool spirit breezes flow like
music through our souls again.