So also the tongue

So also the tongue

James 3:5-10

The heart is hungry,

the tongue is its servant.

“More, more,” it cries,

even though it has never missed a meal

and knows that the storehouses overflow.

The heart is greedy;

the tongue insists,

“I know what is best

for your well-being.

Trust me, make me your king;

these others are fools.”

The mines thrust deeper

to ravage red earth,

forests are levelled,

while quarries gobble their way

to the horizon and beyond.

The heart is never satisfied.

“More, more!” the tongue shouts

at gargantuan dozers and digging machines;

“Less, less!” the tongue protests against

the people and their taxes.

They are an inconvenience, undeserving;

annoying obstacles to the heart’s

never-ending lusts.

The heart will never have enough,

even as multiple tongues bring

their restless evil workings

to the task.

© Ken Rookes 2012

Speech impediment

We have a collective problem

with our hearing, our seeing, too.

There are sounds that we struggle to hear,

sights that our eyes refuse to see.

There are certain frequencies,

cries, groans and wailings,

that auditory senses fail to discern

above our chosen and familiar din.

There are vistas pleasant and reassuring,

scenes of blue skies and gum trees;

with these we make pretty our walls,

convincing ourselves

that cruel and confronting landscapes

in territories beyond our own,

either do not exist

or are none of our concern.

Hear no evil, see no evil;

not my problem.

The denials of sensory perception

are employed to foster

an untroubled existence.

Thus we avert the need

to speak, to act, to confront,

and our voices become forfeit.

In the blurry stories of human origins,

a mythical man

demonstrates the timelessness

of speech impediments.

In feigned innocence, he enquires:

Am I my brother’s keeper?

Jesus, we are told, came

to open the eyes of the blind,

to unstop the ears of the deaf,

and to release the tongues

of those who will not speak.

Pick me, Jesus;

pick me!

© Ken Rookes 2012