Oh, King: A Liturgy for Citizens of a Hostile Empire

 In liturgy

Leader: In the distance, in our faces, we hear the drums of war

Group: The trees extend their fingers and beg for a longer existence

All: As do we

 

In the distance, in our faces, we grasp for humanity’s goodness

The inevitability of a grass-blade’s growth, it knows it was made for life

As do we

 

In the distance, in our faces, we witness contagious corrosion

The winds wheeze in their poison, lamenting an intended path

As do we

 

In the distance, in our faces, the empires rage in terror

The land whimpers while beaten into a fear-based subjugation

As do we

 

But in the distance, in our faces, erroneous rulers call for bent knees

While the waters of the skies and seas know they cannot be contained

As should we

 

And in the distance, in our faces, though there’s noise of sightless submission

The vines burst through the concrete in a resolute, “Not today.”

As could we

 

For God will deliver, but if God does not, let it be known oh, King

That the mountains will always refuse to serve an image that did not create them

 

As will we

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