Streams of Comfort

“Let’s start a revolution,”
I say with vigor,
“We can reform this land.”
“You must be mad,” the general responds,
His pickaxe gleaming in the sunlight like armor,
As we gaze at the battle plans it took all night for us to draw up.
“What did we stay up all night for,”
And when I do not immediately respond he states,
“To win, that’s what.”
“No,” I challenge,
“To run away,”
Pointing my finger in accusation at the plan laid out on the long wooden table,
“This is nothing but a glorified escape plan,”
“What’s the point of having this war camp and mighty army if we don’t fight.”
“Mighty army,” he scoffs, “I think you’re a little confused,”
“This is a refugee camp, not a war camp,”
“And the people sleeping in these tents are not warriors,”
He motions to the tents all around us,
Tents that had become worn, frayed, and a dusty brown color from months of being on the run.
“All our mighty warriors died protecting our city,” the general continues,
“This is the only way we can survive,”
“The Swell will not back down just because you resist it,”
“We are completely at its mercy,” he finishes softly.
The Swell is an enemy army from a distant land,
A land of some dark god that we do not know, a hostile and violent kingdom.
We call it the Swell, because the army rushes in and destroys civilizations like a tsunami.
Washing away their existence like water does a stain.
We have been on the run for months after our cities were destroyed,
And were nothing but a small resistance group made of survivors from all the destroyed cities.
“Look, I am not saying that we fight them head on,”
“Then what are you saying,” he replies with narrowing eyes.
“This is an inside job,”
“I think we should surrender and enter into their kingdom,”
“And do what?”, he questions,
“Reform them from the inside out.”
“Yes, you have definitely gone mad,” he concludes
“We cannot run forever, and maybe this is why God has saved us,”
“God? Didn’t he abandon us when our city was destroyed?”, he counters,
“The fact that we are alive means that he has not abandoned us,” I respond,
“He could have just let the Swell completely wipe us out,”
“But look, we are still alive.”
“And I think to remain that way we need to change our battle plan,”
“Maybe the solution is to go under their rule.”
“This sounds like a sure way to die,” he protests,
“We can submit under their rule but remain truthful to ourselves and our God,” I continue,
“And I’m sure God will back us up, he will overthrow that kingdom through us.”
“That requires a lot of trust in a God we have not heard from in a while,” he replies after a brief pause,
“You know that you are not actually a commander, and I am not actually a general, right?”,
“That’s true, but we are all God has given us.” I respond,
“Then God help us all,” the general states with his hands up in surrender.
“I believe that he will,” I say with a faint smile,
And with his concession I turn and head toward the tents,
To wake our mighty army and get them ready for the battle,
To start a revolution from the inside out.