Don't Ask the Crocus (A Lament for Boston)

Don't ask the crocus, "Where is God?"
as though the crocus can respond to
our cries echoing over the flower beds.
The purple blooms have done their best
to disguise the traces of our bitter violence;
their job is not to soothe our seething conscience.

Don't ask the migrating geese, "Where is God's goodness?"
for their nearness to heaven has not revealed to them
why God has not yet cast the rainbow covenant aside
and let the earth drown in its own sorrows and blood.
The geese cannot answer our crisis of humanity; they
can only attest that God calls us to life amidst chaos.

Don't ask the sun in its warming spring course,
"Where is God's salvation now?" for the sun
has already blessed us with a bright new dawn
for making peace and naming injustice, but we
brazenly invent weapons for our own redemption
and carelessly institutionalize our worst iniquities.