A poem a week for a year. |
Hymn for Rodney King Why can’t we all just get along? Oh, Rodney, Rodney, don’t you know? That “we all” are the problem entire, that flawed and broken as we are, just getting along is beyond our grasp. Did you not hear that we fell from grace, that imperfect we’re born, imperfect live, in the image of God but with illicit fruit still lodged within our being? It’s true we’re capable of love, of self denial, generosity, of creation benign and beautiful, yet equally the seed inside produces hate and murder; selfishness and a jaundiced eye are masters of our deep desires that snare our impulse toward the good, a permanent battlefield. So we proceed, like two-faced Janus, bright as the sun at moments. dark as midnight in an instant, forever torn and subject to the dichotomy of our nature. Oh dear Rodney, this eternal war that rages within our hearts will always find expression. Getting along out there can only be if first we fix ourselves. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Romans 7:24 (NIV) Line Count: 28 For Promptly Poetry. June 15 2020 Prompt: Select five words beginning with the same letter and write a poem using them. Words Chosen: Battle, Bright, Benign, Being, Born. |