God, America, Afghanistan

 

God, America, Afghanistan

 

 

I am the Lord Your God

speaking to you from beyond the blue heavens

where you can’t see Me

but I can see you

 

I molded you from the clay of the earth

numbered the fingers of your hand

breathed into your mouth the breath of life

 

I favored you above other nations

Your enemies I made strange and savage

that you could more understandably dispatch them

 

Slaves I gave you, with which to grow rich

without yourselves toiling in the field.

Some of you did not assent

to trade in human flesh but it was allowed

for the unity of the nation

that you would become a mighty nation.

 

When once the slaves were freed, and the frontier ended

still you found more enemies

for you are relentless hunters of sin in all its forms

(It is true, I suppose, you were made in My image).

 

Of all nations, best and brightest

of all My children you, most righteous

you towered above all others.

 

 

In the fullness of time came a September morning

remembered now for sky so clear, such blue

such falling of silent tiny figures

into the pursuing clouds of dust and vengeance.

 

But I am a jealous God

swift is my reprisal

and you mounted an invasion

of that dry, deserted mountain land.

Your army fired its weapons over so vast a distance 

you could not know if those you killed were enemies

or among the innocent.

This was your justice.

 

Your soldiers, unable to fulfill their purpose

knew not their purpose

one day fly a child's kite

next day bomb the village.

 

Neighbor denounced neighbor to you

part of a feud or dispute

for you were the occupying authority.

Those deemed guilty were spirited away, never to return.

This was more of your justice.

                                     

A generation passed.  It came time to leave

and now was the truth made known

that your allies lacked the faith of your enemies

and all was panic, a flight from retribution.

 

Who can forgive the sight of those abandoned souls

clinging before dropping

off the cold steel underbelly

of your rising, retreating flying machine.

 

 

Soon all will pass into history

Other outrages, more personal and to a point, will capture your attention

Life can be self-absorbing.

 

But to Me falls the responsibility of judgment.

In the fullness of My time

I will weigh the merits of your case

your idealism, your carelessness

surrounded as always by My archangels

and other aerial beings I will not now describe

other than to note that they quiver in My presence

walk softly in My shadow

and turn over in their sleep when they suffer under the weight

of My displeasure.