Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Our guns will wilt

You might quiet the whole world for a day
If you pray

And if you love
Truly love

our guns
will wilt

St. John of the Cross


I am angry God
Life isn’t fair
Bad things happen
They aren’t like me
They don’t believe what I believe
They don’t treat me well

Oh Lord how can you let this happen?
Am I not the one the you love?
Is not my way your way?
Are you not on my side?
Am not I right,
And are not they wrong?

Do not I do the right things
Say the right things
Believe the right things

My anger grows O God
I am certain it is sacred anger
Holy and Righteous

There is only one answer
They must go
They must pay
It seems too weak to wait for you
To work your purposes out
I must take things into my hand
I must uphold your ways

And so I must
Make a bomb
Grab a gun
Gain political power
And legislate your (well its really my) morality
Yes Lord
It is us against them
It is in or out
It is……..

Or is it?
You confuse me O sacred one
When your symbols of power
Are a baby and a cross

You confuse me when you challenge the “righteous”
And embrace the “sinners”

O God
O God
I do not understand!!!


You are right my child
Sometimes you really don’t get it
My ways are not your ways

Think on that
And pray

No comments:

Post a Comment