Friday, November 21, 2008

Crying for Justice

"And will not bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will God keep putting them off? I tell you, God will see that they get justive, and quickly." Luke 18:7-8

A Poem - Crying for Justice

She was dressed simply,a woman of the town
old, haggard, broken, unattractive crying
coming every day, asking
over and over for justice.

Her head held high as people laughing
teasing her folly, her crying
for justice.

The judge doesn't listen
you have no value, no voice, no right
to seek the justice you deserve.

She comes again, and again and again
she believes in justice where none
has been seen in generations not
for women like her who don't know justice
is a game and a bribe and
only for the ones in power.

The judge won't listen to one
who has no value, no voice, no right
to seek the justice you deserve.

She returns bent on justice, the seasons turn
the shadows lengthen, the crowds find other
victims of their ridicule, she has become
a part of the daily life, she has become
a voice for justice.

The judge who won't listen to one
who has no value, no voice, no right
to seek the justice is weary, broken
by her presence, her persistence, her ancient face
breaks through to the rusted corrupted heart
and he sends her home justified.

She saw in his face the exhaustion the broken
pieces of a life gone wrong, and authority
bought and sold, a judgment bent
by tide and times.

She imagined the young man, the one who ran
to the aid of children and widows, who
wanted to stop the abuse, the corruption
he finally become.

She knew in her heart that God was bigger
than the broken judge or the broken world
or the passing of day into night and back again.

She knew that hidden in her dark world was light
enough for everyone, enough to warm and grow,
enough justice to right the wrongs, justice
flowing down like water over falls,
splashing everywhere, surrounding everyone washing
away all the broken hearts and watering again
the fields of hope.

She knew God and we know God in her story,
God who is quick to justice, running like a young man
to the aid of widows and children
the vulnerable and the broken
the loud, persistent and the silent.

Justice comes again and again, God's open hands reaching
for the ones on the edge, you stuck in the middle,
you who have given up, you who has lost their way, you
who can't take any more, you
God's ears have heard your cry, your night tears
your loud and frightened hoping, your heart poured out
God i s here.

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