FERGUSON KADDISH
Holy, worthy,
utterly magnificent;
We want to
see your name held aloft,
Praised on
tall mountains,
Exalted in
cathedrals and at coffee tables,
Called out to
the sky above us,
For you
created it all.
Every moment
is within your grasp,
Each leaf
carries your DNA, encoded - it is all yours,
By your hand
creation came to pass.
Arranger of
stars,
It is your
kingdom we long to see formed in our midst.
Before our
days are at an end,
We dream of
seeing your kingdom taking shape ever more fully.
But we are
sick tooooo.
We are sick
of lies, lies.
And we are
sick of hate.
And contempt.
Injustice.
We are sick
of this,
Life shaped
by the sated,
Contemptible
abuses that stain our streets,
Causing us to
wonder just how much of your image there actually is in us.
Build your
kingdom and build it fast,
The tracks of
this train are straining and snagged.
We are headed
nowhere beautiful and it is you that we need.
We will still
sing in wild and endless praise of your name,
But our words
are jagged,
Just as we, ourselves,
are jagged,
Frayed at the
edges,
Distortions,
Shadows of
our calling,
Torn apart by
mourning and injustice.
Speak a word
to us,
You who is
there in the vigil candle’s flickering flame,
You who is
indelibly written on our arms,
You who stand
kettled against the blockade,
You, who is
deserving of shouted anthems of praise.
You.
You are our
voice.
Just as we
are yours.
On Missouri
streets you are an echo,
A startling
sound ringing out across ages,
Calling your
people home,
Your voice,
Honed in the
clamour of exilic forays,
Knows the
razed burn of lament.
We are merely
yet more witnesses to yet another defamation of your image;
Pure,
Boundless,
Squandered in
chaos,
Wrestled into
death,
Leviathan
names another victim.
Credence
given to Babylon’s tales and version of truth,
But you,
Shaper of
seasons,
You are to be
praised forever,
You whose
breath gives life to clay and scatters dust,
And yet.
Ferguson.
Not just
another anything, but,
A person,
A name,
Inhale,
Exhale,
Inhale,
Exhale,
And suddenly
stop,
And stay
stopped.
Michael
Brown,
Not just a
name,
Not just
anyone.
Not.
Not a face
without a name,
For every
face bears a name to you.
And this name
was and is and ever shall be,
Michael
Brown.
Giver of
life, as we forage amidst the ashes of this collapse of love,
Help us to
understand.
We find no
peaceable resolve,
harmony is
crushed and broken.
And yet we
call out.
For justice.
For change.
We sing with
your cadences.
We sing,
And you hear.
We cry,
And you hear.
But Babylon stays
silent.
The meta-modern
motif creaks,
Those
straining train tracks.
There is
lack.
There is
decay and fear and persistence,
In wilful
abandon they find their muse.
Yet you,
Instigator of
all things,
You remain.
Unchanging.
Unshaking.
You.
Known as much
in your presence as you are in your absence.
Help us to
hear you on the breeze,
To know you
in burning branches,
And to trust
you in the terrors of darkest night.
We long to
sing praises to you,
But all we
have is our lament,
Yet even in
this,
We will gaze
into imperceptible murk darkly,
Longing for a
glimmer,
Quickly and
without delay.
For the
shadows gather,
And trouble
rides with them.
So to you
beyond our horizons and cradled within our cracked clay frames,
To you we
sing our songs.
You are
beyond all our words,
Anything we
might see fit to mutter.
You are
beyond.
And beyond is
what we long for.
Beyond and
yet immanent.
To you we cry
out,
For you know
our names and we each weigh heavy on your heart.
Ferguson.
Ferguson know
justice.
Ferguson know
peace.
America see
with wide open eyes.
Fill time and
space with words,
Some spoken,
Some silent,
Words of
prayer.
And may peace
flow like a river through dry temple courts,
And may a
faithful rhythm be found for all people,
For those who
wander - lost.
Those who
march and sing prophetic acclamations.
And those who
whose eyes are closed and whose hearts are hardened,
THAT THE NAME
WOULD BE BLESSED.
AMEN.
(Written:
23:15 on 29/11/2014 - 01:21 on 30/11/2014)
No comments:
Post a Comment