The Kingdom In Ferguson

Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.

Oh God, please come
because what's being done
seems so far from heaven.

Do you know that kids are killed
in playgrounds and streets
and hope is beat
with the club of injustice?
Can you abide this?

Do you see
that in games of he-said he-said
the blood that's been bled
again and again
usually flows
from beneath black/brown skin?

Father, may your kingdom come.
May justice be done.
May we live as one.
But not through a war where one
has won
and another lost
made to bear the cost.

Jesus, bring here
to this roiling hate
a cure for this ill,
something to satiate
the cry for blood,
this overflowed flood—
the sum of years of aggression
dammed up by oppression.

Spirit, break the the untenable position
whereby a mathematical supposition
says an eye demands an eye
never pausing to try and see.

Our Father,
can the scales of blind justice
ever tip toward both
as we learn that the most
we can do for one another
to be well
is to value each other
and indwell
every mister and sister
with the likeness of the divine?
There in their eyes and mine
is our God's pleasure
in equal measure!

So God,
we are waiting for you,
hoping you'll go ahead and do
what you have clearly called us to.
For what we long to see
is already possible
since you've set us free
to be your people,
a mighty faction
called to be disciples of action.

So we ask...
To whom can we turn to become friends
to make amends
and bring thy kingdom
even here, hundreds of miles
from Ferguson?

No more waiting,
or sideline-contemplating.
We must make peace
at least
in the orbits of our lives
all wars must cease.

So may thy kingdom come
thy will be done
in me
through me
let me
as you are
in heaven.