I've been thinking about this poem often during Lent, since we're preaching through Exodus. This is one of my first poems, but I think it's also one of my favorites.
America
The land of liberty
The place where freedom reigns.
We breathe but do not live.
Self-procured captivity
Pours out slavery’s stains.
Our streets reflect the sieve.
We seek satisfaction.
Desire overtakes us.
Our master is our Self.
For him is all action.
Is there no Spartacus
To lead in rebellion?
Each morn we gladly rise
And lock mind and body
To the yoke of vile lust.
We daily live our lies
Then watch our comedy.
The truth is ne’er discussed.
The sieve is evident.
All goes in, none comes out.
A bitter tasting gall
Is the only remnant
Of our life lived without
The joy of freedom’s hall.
God, please, free us from us.
Make me the Spartacus!
As I look back, I see that our role is not to be the Spartacus, but to follow Christ - the victorious Spartacus who sets us all free.
No comments:
Post a Comment