Rooms

With God’s grace and strength, we do not have to be frozen in fear, hurt, and anger for ourselves and our brothers and sisters. Let us take action in our broken world.
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
“Rooms”
 
Fire is blowing and here
I am knowing I must move.
Before me there is a house
where crimson chews on the walls
until they fall in, their gaping wounds glowing
in a furnace of war.
 
I must move.
 
the fire has been set—it can’t be rewound
like an old VHS. This film only rolls forward.
But while the drama unfolds,
I am caught staring. So many windows cracking,
so many rooms burning, so many cries rising.
The answer is rescue, but I cannot choose a room.
There are too many, this is too much.
 
I must move.
 
Will I say years from now that my master was
indecision and my chains were indifference?
Apathy floods these onlookers
like poison gas. I could breathe it
in and float, aimless, in my own mind as darkness
takes us, as I wonder: which room?
 
I move.
 
I will pick one room, you pick another, and you
still another. We will pull hope out
of the flames.
 
We must move.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Rooms by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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Lilac Nation

I am shaken by the events of the past week in America, but I remain encouraged by the many people to whom I’ve spoken who are ready now more than ever to fight for unity and justice in this country. I still choose to believe that we as a people can seek wholeness. We do not have to let the dark and divisive rhetoric of this year be the norm. Instead, let us strive to heal through communication, love, and open hearts.
 
God bless,
Morgan
 
“Lilac Nation”
For unity
 
Young one, how fear has grated
your branches into brittle fingers curling
inward, terrified to embrace the wind of todays and
tomorrows. Your leaves are meant
to shade and shelter, your red, white, and blue flowers
to surprise the earth with fruitful promise. Yet in storm’s
wake I see your proud colors crying out
in red pain and blue smoke,
as your trunk parts
down the center, flowerless.
 
Young one, let your leaves return.
Soak in wind and water and courage, and
let your branches bloom anew with all
your colors as one:
a vibrant, lilac nation.
 
 
Creative Commons License
Lilac Nation by Morgan Prettyman is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.