Wednesday, June 30, 2010

#OldStuff :: Letters From A Prodigal People

Dear God,
What do I give my son when I have no water to quench his thirst…
How do I respond to his cries when not even my own tears can quell the heat of the Haitian sun nestled in his throat…
How will I explain to him why he feels so out of my place at his new school or
That we can never go home, that we must make this here & now our own
And how will I explain to him the absence of his father…
How will I teach him to be a man when all the men are gone…
How will I tell him the truth...
How will I answer his questions…
When I can’t even answer my own…

Dear God,
Why have you forsaken us?
It seems you have turned away from us
Pushed us just outside of a fingertip’s reach knowing just one touch could change it all
How will we keep warm when we’ve come face to face with the coldest shoulder ever thrown?
& what have we done to warrant the forsaking of our entire country
& God, how will we start anew
Forcing us to rebuild again is like asking us to draw honey out of a rock
This accursed ground can no longer support life
See how it broke & shattered & ruptured under the weight of love, of time, of existence
This fallow ground was never meant to support the spirit of such a heavy people

Dear God,
We sit & wait.
Almost as helpless as bloated bodies floated when levees could not pacify a woman's scorn five years ago
Oh God, will we ever learn?
God when will we realize that this earth, she is not a savage beast
She is just a heartbroken mother awaiting the return of her wayward children
We have squandered the wealth of our father, pilfered the womb of our mother
Prodigal sons & daughters filled with premature inheritances, blind ambitions & not enough sense to know the difference
We have forsaken the wisdom of our father, forgotten the virtues of our mother
In search of empty promises wrapped in smiling white faces and shallow open arms
We run away, seeking refuge, burrowing our black faces in skin that does not mirror our own

Dear Mother Earth,
You’ve brought your children to their knees
To a place of brokenness, a place of despondency, a place of searching
And so we cry out for a savior;
They hear our words but do not listen to the lamentation of our tears
Forsaken by all else, we know exactly who to turn to
And even though it took a mother’s harsh hand to bring us back to our senses
You are at the gate waiting, arms of longing, eyes of knowing
Ready to dress us with robes of royalty, to kill the fatted calf, to place rings of gold onto frail fingers
And even from afar off, I see a mother’s lips mouthing “welcome home”

*i feel like it's still a little rough around the edges... but OH WELL lol*

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