Eating Crow

Eating Crow

Lord, of course it is wisdom that I seek.
Of course I seek to grow.
I want my heart to grow more meek.
– But I always end up eating crow.

I want to conform to Your will,
but that row is tough to hoe.
I always end up eating my fill
Of that awful black bird, crow.

I’ve had it boiled and chicken fried;
I’ve had crow fricassee;
I’ve had my crow in black crow pie;
I’ve had roasted crow with brie.

Lord, if you would be so kind,
give me a new crow recipe;
my tongue is faster than my mind,
faster than my eyes can see.

I’ve had it at the church potluck
I’ve had it at family dinners, too.
Oh, Lord, for once could I please have duck
and avoid my tongue-fashioned stew?

My fingers also fly too fast
Immortalizing my flaws in cyberspace
Canned crow, frozen — it’s preserved to last.
– I’ll be eating it all my earthly days.

Only You can save me from my fate,
my life as an avivore.
Purge my wrongness, my pride and my hate,
let me show it is You I adore.

I’ve had my crow boiled and chicken fried;
I’ve had it with a side of greed;
I’ve had my crow in black crow pie.
I’m stuffed to bursting with need.

Only You can save me from my fate,
Only You, the One I adore.
Purge my wrongness, my pride and my hate,
Make me holy evermore.

– A.M. Otwell, 2008