Yesterday my son texted me a picture of a bird’s nest that he and his cousin found when they were playing baseball outside. A perfect, manilla colored egg lay atop the nest. It would have been a happy discovery indeed, but when when I scrolled in to look closer, right beneath the egg, I realized that the top layer of the nest was green, plastic netting, commonly used as lawns are being made … not grown … created. It hurt to see; so I wrote.
I’m afraid we’ve failed you –
again
And I’m afraid no one remains
unaffected
less protected
or more rejected
than those who have no voice to raise
How is it that we have fallen so far
from Eden?
from grace?
from the commission to
take care
or
be aware
Instead we close our eyes
and compromise
our virtue for value
and sustainable
for easily attainable
I’m so sorry
and I know it’s not enough
It hurts …
this separation of who we were called to be
and what we’ve become instead
I’m afraid there isn’t much time to fix things
to fix us
to mend your broken heart
to mend our broken place
But I promise to try
to use the voice I still have
even if it’s barely a whisper
You say actions speak louder
so that brings me some comfort
I guess this is me
taking one more step
