Poem of the Week 7/11/2017
I am locust.
Fear my jaws, my crunching song,
God’s call to reap what you sow.
God’s great abundance is not a mistake.
Sow what you’ll need.
Cede first fruits to priests,
then feed the good food to the mighty.
Gather the rest and eat your fill.
Are some grains less than perfect?
Allow the least to glean.
Seek those willing to get down on hands and knees
and pick the stalks clean.
Starve me, hated locust.
Leave nothing in the field, or my numbers will soar.
I’ll return with a vengeance year after year
with ravenous appetite.
I’ll darken your skies in an instant,
come to feast on memories,
unappreciated past harvests.
You’ll hear my horde hum
just beyond the horizon.
The approaching jaws of the tiny,
in terrifying numbers,
tot up your sins.
The deafening chomp wakes you to reason.
You’ve created your own destruction.
I descend in season so you shall know
you reap what you sow.
I am locust, servant to God,
His chosen vengeance
for man’s greed, selfishness, and sloth.
Poem of the Week email subscription