Famine For The Word

ripe fruit

The farmer sees it coming

The drought

Always close to the land

Close to hopes and yields

To the whims of God

But this is without precedent

And he is to tell nobility

Palace folk

Of the inexorable decline

Of God’s Word

In the consciousness of the people.

Of God’s equity

In their judgment and exchange.

Left to their own resources

And those parched and rotting for sure.

In grasping, oppression, untruths

“Kings in palaces know best.”

They say.

And the clouds hover above

And fields of grain wave

At the exit of Righteousness.

sackcloth

Amos 8

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