Micah 6:8
When I was younger,
more naïve than innocent,
I was happily aware of the privilege
that attends the accident of birth
in this generous land.
Australia, the young and magnificent,
of blue sky, strong sun, gum trees,
parrots and crashing surf;
prospering as both farm and quarry
to the rest of the planet.
We would never go hungry.
Growing older,
I would hear stories from other countries,
and my own; of people for whom life itself
and an occasional full stomach
was the privilege. Humans like me
who weep at cruelty, face daily oppression,
and yearn despairingly for peace.
Children who might never learn to read,
adults who might never cast a vote,
women denied their rightful opportunities,
minorities treated as if they didn’t matter,
indigenous people whose dreamings
are dismissed as a primitive irrelevance,
people cut off from home and country
and waiting for a place of safety and welcome.
My sense of privilege achingly sharpened,
and with it the conviction that these wrongs
should not, must not, go un-righted.
Still later,
I came to hear the ringing words
of the ancient prophet, humbly realising
that the disturbing call to justice
is also my own.
© 2011 Ken Rookes
