Sunday, December 17, 2006

Day 5/War of the Words

"On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me/ Five golden rings.../four calling birds/ three French hens/ two turtle doves..."

So, if you do the math, you may be thinking to yourself "But wait, Mike started his count 6 days ago...why are we only on day five??" If you are thinking that, my head is screwed on properly, I just started my count a day early (and no one told me!!). So, today is actually the fifth day (depending on how you count...).

The gifts (in catch-up order): Two turtle doves are the old and new testaments; Three French hens are the three "Theological Values" (Faith, Hope and Charity), which I really don't understand... mebbe I'll Wiki it...; Four calling birds are the four Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; aaaaand the five golden rings are, to use some Christian terminology, the "Pentateuch," or for us normal people the first five books of the Bible (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy).

So things have been kinda crazy lately. I've really been struck by how much damage we do with our words. I know a couple of people who are practically at war with each other over a whole "he said, she said" issue. And it is driving me nuts, partially because it is over something totally meaningless and partially because there is nothing I can do about it. I find that when I get frustrated like that, writing helps. I actually wrote this a little while ago, but it really has a lot of meaning now. And yes, the title is a play on "The War of the Worlds." But no fear, Tom Cruise isn't in it ;D.

Oh the discord of argument
A bitter melody, cold fire
The breaking of the world
On the tongue of humanity
A scourge on the soul,
A deep bite forced by unruly emotion
Fighting as a release
Deep pain, shallow irritation
Personalities clashing
The battlefield erupts in flame
Bullets whizz overhead
Spit off the tongues of the spiteful
Dear Jesus, what have we done?
You tell us to love
To act as we would have on us
Instead we dig trenches
Lines in our brows that mar our face
We cry out to You "Holy!"
And tell You of our love
We cry to our brothers curses
And flail them with our words
This is our hipocracy
We need to find Your love


By the grace of God

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