Calling Time
We're past the winter solstice
yet still the days feel darker.
Conflicts unresolved cascade
as torrents tumbling through the news.
Vital visions are fog cloaked
while we worry wants of now,
scrapping for what is left, lest
we find we're squeezed – extruded.
Can mere human interest see
beyond misuse of creatures,
crops and carbon for our end?
– end of air and sea that's trashed.
Consumed in our indulgence
– idolising god of growth –
we ourselves may be consumed
by wrathful winds and rising seas.
Even when the sky seems clear,
by day we can not see out
of the blue. True dark of night
shows stars that shrink us to know
the space in which we're set,
in limits of the home here
to breathe and breed. Can we yet
return, respect the giver?
– rein back to a steady pace,
covenant ourselves with grace
to live peace within this place,
at one with God, saving face?
Copyright © Lisle Ryder | Year Posted 2019
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