O Lord, we have drawn our swords –
our bows are at the ready.
Seething with anger,
lying in wait,
ready to strike.
We fret over the prosperous,
and worry about the wicked.
We add to our own abundance
by oppressing those who need our help.
In our wrath
we have sought to kill the needy.
In our gluttony
we have taken whatever pleases us.
Money, time, innocence, trust, love –
they are commodities we feel we are owed
with no responsibility to return.
Your law, O Lord,
is not in our hearts
or our minds.
Your law, O Lord,
is on our bookshelves,
collecting dust
as we collect useless possessions,
which we hope
will drown out your laughter.
Amid the turmoil of our broken lives –
lives lived only for ourselves –
you speak to us a single word:
wait
O Lord, make us still.

[a prayer inspired by Psalm 37]

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...