Fall 1992 · Vol. 21 No. 2 · pp. 13–14
A Lament of the Earth
O God! I am weary of weeping:
the rain of my tears has no relief.
You, God, created these insect mortals
who crawl here and there,
to master and, so You said, to “care.”
Did you so create, God, that I must choke and die?
How long that life is nothing but slow death?
Hear, God, and answer me;
Listen to my accusations:
With poison they fill my lungs,
they choke me with factory and car.
With sewage they fill my veins,
my lifeblood fouled with stolen oil.
With filth and garbage they scar my flesh,
Gash me to hide their mess.
I am wounded for their transgressions,
and bruised because of their petty hungers.
I gasp, falter, shudder because of their sin,
and, blaming You, they call it an “act of God”!
They rape, steal my shiny treasures of metal;
then, hardly used, they dump them back,
with not even a thank-you. {14}
They entomb me in scorching pavement, and I gasp;
they curse the heat with their air conditioners,
and I can breath no more.
They pillage my hills and valleys,
saying, “The trees will be with us always,”
so that they can read of fashions, famines, and stock markets,
and trade a dying knowledge with each other.
Let the sinfulness of the sinners die, O God;
let the polluters see the dead-end of their ways!
On that day, waste and destruction will become extinct,
squalor and blemish will be known no more.
Heavens will be glad, and I will echo his praises;
my seas will thunder their hallelujahs,
and all the trees of the field shall sing for joy.
I will trust in the goodness of the Lord,
Who was made filth so that I might be made clean.
I will wait for his righteousness,
who shows me that death is also the seed of life.
To him, the true Life of the world, will I sing praise.
