All is well, and yet . . .

I’m alone in my thoughts this Sunday morning
Savoring my small garden, a cup of coffee in hand
Before gathering later with others for worship.
The morning is calm with a light breeze.

The mullein stands erect nearly six feet tall now.
Coneflowers are beginning to bloom.
Daylilies turn to worship the sun
Birdsongs float through the air above.

All appears to be well in the world. And yet …

Bombs are exploding over Iran, Palestine, Ukraine, and Israel
International leaders grasping for much more
“Safety for our people, our borders,” they claim,
“Requires the annihilation of our neighbors.”

Gardens stripped bare, blackened and scorched
Mere casualties of war, testify to man’s greed.
The human flow increases exponentially
Families fleeing homes, abandoning their gardens

When greed takes hold of the human spirit
No space on earth is spared
Left to ourselves we strive to survive
Yet usher in the apocalypse with uncanny fervor

“Put down the swords! Melt down the arsenals!”
Jesus cries, kneeling in the midst of the battlefield.
Head in his hands, “Have you not heard me?
Peace isn’t accomplished this way!”

“I am Life, Bread, and Light
Not Death, Famine, Darkness!
I came to restore, not destroy!
How have you misunderstand the Way?”

Again he pleads, “Have you not heard?
Open your ears and listen!”
Forgotten is the oft quoted scripture of days long past,
“If my people will humble themselves and pray…”

Humility, the lowliest of virtues
All but ignored and scorned
Is replaced with hubris and arrogance
Well suited for the gods we presume to be

We bolt upright and divine another way
In the end, when bloated, bloodied bodies conceal the blackened ground
We realize too late we’ve entered an apocalypse of our own making!
What seemed right and necessary is now gravely wrong.

And yet, a day will come when …

A fresh breeze will begin to blow
And the sun will rise and heal the earth
Flowers will again grace our gardens
Birdsongs, not bombs, will greet the dawn

Soon, these wars like all wars, will be forgotten
When we settle underneath our shade trees.
Thus is the way of humanity,
Failing to remember its own history.