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Minneapolis, MN 55407
P.O. Box 7588
Phone: (612) 722-6612
office@walkerchurch.org
Walter Lockhart, Pastor
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3104 16th Ave. S. Minneapolis, MN 55407 P.O. Box 7588 Phone: (612) 722-6612 office@walkerchurch.org Walter Lockhart, Pastor |
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Our
Mission: To Nurture Spirituality, Build Caring Community,and Work Courageously
for Peace with Justice and Mercy
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Surrender America By David West 9/01 Surrender to your grief, America Surrender to your loss, America Your loss of innocence Your loss of innocents You love Liberty with a lion’s heart You see the vulnerable with an eagle’s eye for weakness You hear with a rabbit’s ear the criticism of your country You are a ferocious people. You earn, learn, and burn like nobody’s business You fight like a monster and light up the skies with your bombs. You light up your minds with the insistent blue glow of your TVs. Images uniting you in your stupidity, your gullibility, your grief Surrender your grief, America. You are the only ones strong enough to do it. Turn the other cheek, America Mourn your dead, mourn all the dead. Your victims of terror, The ones you murdered in Iraq, and Sudan, and Afghanistan, Bring back the armies, the planes, the bombs, Admit the guilt of innocent blood shed in the name of corporate interest The world awaits your leadership The world longs for the big stick to wave a big white flag Show us the way America Let 2001 be the year you said “Enough!” Enough war. Enough retaliation. Enough vengeance. Enough hate and crime Enough planes, and smart bombs, and armies, and collateral damage, and missiles Enough protecting your interests Your interest is Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness Not death, oppression and the pursuit of Bin Laden Declare your independence America Wage not the War of Independence but the independence of war Surrender your addiction to oil your addiction to TV your addiction to greed Surrender your addiction to violence and weapons and destruction In God you trust, America, not King George The enemy lies within you America. Surrender the enemy that is killing your people Burying them beneath the twisted steel and rubble and dust of your economy. Surrender America Surrender your guns. Lay down your weapons Open your hearts Open your minds Open your soul to the beauty that is this country You are America You are the free and the brave. You are the ones who believe all people are created equal. Arab and Jew Brown and White Muslim and Christian Us and Them You are the firefighters waging war on catastrophe and nurturing the flame of freedom You are the police patrolling the Pentagon You are the pilots flying safely home You are the rescue workers searching for your souls in a rubble of destruction brought about by your blind march to retaliation, to retribution, to revenge, By a mindless refusal to ever retreat –a manifest destiny By fearful leaders cowering in their bunkers and running away in their airplanes By the chickens coming home to roost. You are the innocent this time, the payback for a half million Iraqis dead. The pay back for insulting your Muslim brothers with your not so smart bombs Today you bleed and burn for the sins of your leaders. Your leaders who will lead you into war again. Surrender America Lay down your weapons Bury your dead and go home Pray for your souls living and dead. Feed your families not your cars. Burn your candles not their crude Love your brothers as you do yourselves. Surrender your President and Leadership. Surrender the enemy within Dreaming By David West5/02 I dreamt last night an oak sprawling branches like lattice against the sky In its shade a reddish chicken picks and flits nearby barren branches draw my eyes to a folded form up high A hawk My chicken Oh no The chicken unconcerned continued oblivious A second sillohuette appeared back lit Around the tree I walk Until the light hits the magnificent bald eagle high above my chicken still unbothered I look again to the royal up stretched oak and now I see a wolf How improbable I think A wolf up in a tree “Look” I say and then there were three Full of predators is this tree And all of them over me For my chicken is now also roosted on a branch And there’s my cat too perfectly arranged What could this mean these predators in perfect repose High above the ground at peace do you suppose It could be about the war you know but probably more to do with me For I’ve held anger as dangerous as a Cheney or a Bush And been unable to be with it or let it have its way Like a chicken who can’t care or fly away I dreamt last night of a day When all our predators are supported by old growth peacefully at bay |
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