Disgust me.

Don't cry my dear
don't cry
but I have no words of comfort
because I sit on my privilege
and smile down at the world
complain about traffic
and the price of gas
while I leave half of my food
on a plate that cost too much money
made by Indonesian, Thai, Turkish, Chinese hands
that bend in low light for nickels and dimes
and I leave half of my food
as swollen bellies go hungry
and I search my mind, my heart
for answers but often I am left with more questions...
I sit in my American safety and sometimes have the audacity
to pretend that I have a clue what suffering means
I sit in my American safety, afraid to walk down my very street
but I don't know fear
not the way that children sleeping on bare floors in Uganda do
not the way families huddled in corners, awaiting explosions do
We want to secure our homeland
but security does not justify turning blind eyes
So disgust me with myself please
disgust me for this culture that breeds gluttony and laziness
force me to choose a different way Lord
because this is not Your way
this is not what You died for
Death and destruction go against everything You created us for,
came for, lived for, died for, rose for, commissioned us for
Disgust me Lord when I look in the mirror and I see my possessions and my vanity
Break me Lord
These are scary words, but I mean them
Break me Lord
Break me down