When eye
cannot see beyond I,
self
loses sight of the other;
the world
is a dark, cold place;
we're
orphaned from sister and brother.
Consumption
becomes the main function,
surrounded
by layers of our stuff;
life's an
ultimate competition;
everything
is never enough.
Construction
begins our destruction:
wall,
door, lock, fence, gate;
neighbor
becomes adversary,
survival
is fueled by hate.
As if
Exodus had nothing to do with us,
we cling
to our titles and deeds,
claiming
earth as our own creation.
I'm the
flower; you are the weeds.
Freedom
to travel begins to unravel
as home
becomes the place
where
liberty's armed to the teeth
and all
have forgotten grace.
Are we
unable to come to the table,
where
wine is poured and bread broken,
where
prodigal and steadfast alike,
find love
both lived and spoken?
© 2013
Todd Jenkins
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