"Misread The Situation" [Fawcett #27] (Amos 5:24; Luke 12:1-3; 19:41-44;)

My Irish roots go back to here,
Though long since gone, it would appear
My feisty side (the side I hate)
Abides there still, and still can’t wait.

Distrust and vying for the top,
Trips up mankind, this feisty lot
Had sad delusions – doctrinaire
That Britts disliked attack-repair –

So wouldn’t turn their guns around,
Headquarter buildings start to pound;
But Britts don’t give a hoot for cash
When challenged, they proceed to smash –

Whatever stands in way of power
As exercised from London’s tower;
They wiped the leaders from the map
Except a few – and that was that.

It seems Britts won, but lost the fight,
For moral high ground (who was right),
Lay with the Irish – sad to see –
But short-term was their victory.

The sad part in our world today,
Is how such antics, still in play,
Tear up the lives of those around
Us, even here in frozen ground.

It all will out in time, of course;
At private level there’s remorse,
But at the public table, no –
More power-games is how things go.

Lord, here we read of power’s abuse –
Collapse of talks, with sad excuse
That all must bend to urgency
(Read: “I’m on top, too bad for thee”).

Thanks Lord for this.

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