THE WAIL OF A STINKBUG
Unclean! Unclean! Great tenderhearted God,
Do not come near, we are an outcast race,
The lepers of the insect
world, the worst,
Afflicted, feared and covered
with disgrace!
For we have lost control
of our exhaust,
And when we PANIC, somehow
it lets loose,
A
noxious, putrid, foul and horrid stink,
A
loathsome, vile and straight-from-hell-ish juice.
Have
mercy on yourself, Exalted Sovereign,
And
stay away from this, our last resort,
Although
we wish to link with other creatures,
Yet
only with each other dare consort.
What’s that? What’s that? You like our pungent odor?
You cooked it up on your computer screen?
Diversity was what you hankered
after?
To teach that nothing created
is unclean?
You’ve made us clowns, then,
Harlequin of Heaven?
To make folks grin instead
of cry in grief?
Then
give us grace to take ourselves more lightly,
Contented
to provide comic relief.
Eternal
Clown! Great Ocean of Surprises!
Your
sense of humor strengthens us to cope.
While
all our smiles be edged around with sadness,
Still
all our griefs have wistful tints of hope.
All right, come here where stinkbugs bow in worship,
Where red and blue and green clown-creatures crawl.
Your Presence will improve
our low self-image -
Be careful! Don’t cause PANIC
in us all!
from the forthcoming book Prayers of 100 Animals A to Z, by William Cleary
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