“Three things are never satisfied; four never say, ‘Enough’: the grave, the barren womb, the land never satisfied with water, and the wildfire.” - Proverbs 30:15-16
—
I’m a Cemetery.
Like a graveyard never says “no” to fresh bones,
I insatiably bury my blessings.
No such thing as “enough.”
Oh God, I’m a cemetery.
Like a barren womb is never a happy womb,
How old was I when I lost joy in free things?
Ideas. Bugs. Wind. Train whistles.
Oh God, I’m a cemetery.
Like a desert guzzles rain,
I’ve drunk a barrowload of blessings and I am parched.
How is that possible?
Oh God, I’m a cemetery.
Like a wildfire takes… and takes… and takes,
I heap my blessings on a burn-pile of bottomless greed.
And (good Lord!) why am I still taking?
Oh God, I’m a cemetery.
rest…
…Oh God, resurrect me.
Exhume the blessings I’ve buried,
To liven, and brighten, and gladen the dirty and dying.
Oh God, please make a dance hall out of me.
…Oh God, open me.
Revive the joy I’ve strangled with age.
Free me to marvel, like a child, in free things again.
Oh God, please make a nursery out of me.
…Oh God, water me.
And dig a canyon into me,
So your blessings might course to parched peoples.
Oh God, please make a great river out of me.
…Oh God, extinguish me.
Then rehabilitate what greed has burned.
And sow generosity in long rows down the length of my heart.
Oh God, please make a garden out of me.
“The belly is an ungrateful wretch, it never remembers past favours, it always wants more tomorrow.” — Alexandr Solzhenitsyn
“We are too prone to engrave our trials in marble, and write our blessings in sand.” — Charles Spurgeon