Psalm 3

The world is broken, Lord of
Hosts, so much so that some

Would think you’re coming soon
With heaven’s military
To smash aggression
And grind indifference into
Dust, establishing a new, just
Place that we will call
A heaven and an earth

The brokenness of our world
Leads us, unjust, toward many
Fallen things further fallen

Those who can, too much, must utter words
Of truth through iron-manacled hands

Others commit to the selling
Of souls: I mean, taking the bodies
Of others and selling them for money
Or the relief of having adversaries gone

We crush our spirits with
What we let go by

Lord, what might lift us, free us
Make us fit for home? Please make me
Readier to act, commit the risk for good

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