A great armored machine gnaws toward us
on cruel tractor treads, venting fumes
of sorrow and dread, a friendly logo
of terror painted on its side,
boasting invincibility.
We stand in its path, naked and fragile.
But not helpless. Not afraid.
We don’t await heroic intervention.
Our flesh is Word made flesh.
We love courageously.
We tell truth. Make noise. Sing lustily.
We give wildly. Take every hand extended.
We impede the wheels. We don’t stop.
Our joy is disturbing, our peace unsettling,
our confidence reorienting.
We live every day as an outburst of hope.
Every day we rise.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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