A voice cries out in the night, a siren wails--
the city sleeps, but uneasily.
Beneath the façade of calm there is unrest.

The sun rises, it shines bright and clear in the blue sky.
It illumines the skyscrapers, the homes, the beaches,
the squalor of townships and squatter camps.
The majestic mountains and the quiet sea cry "Peace!"
but there is no peace--only violence.

It is not the noise of bombs or the marching of feet--
it is the hatred in the heart of the white man for the black,
and the black man for the white.
It is the violence of famine and disease in a land of plenty.

Where is the human dignity when you sleep on the bare earth
in a house of corrugated iron?
Are your dreams those of your oppressor:
wealth, ease, recognition?
Or do you dream of shelter from the cold,
shoes for your feet, food for your next meal?
Do you long for the day of wrath that is coming?

Violence begets violence--it spreads like a plague.
It cannot be halted, only slowed.
It will not be extinguished with more violence, only heightened.
Is peace simply the lack of bloodshed, or is it much more?

The sun moves across the sky and sets in the sea.
Darkness replaces light, and somehow, it seems appropriate.

© Copyright 2007, Progressive Theology

Progressive Theology