Saturday, November 23, 2013

The Divisive Woman (or, Honest Conversations with a Church Greeter)

You don't know who I am
But you insist on how much you and God love me
And how you've missed seeing my face in a pew.
Just as long as you don't know what I think about
and I don't talk about

women's rights
lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people
the lives of puppies, butterflies, rocks, and trees
("Some things, say the wise ones who know everything,
are not living. I say, you live your life your way and leave me alone.")
election ballots stained with sinful choices
hot meals at vegan cafes with safe friends
not giving a shit whether the Bible is infallible or inerrant
or the so-called end of Western civilization.
But caring about real people with untidy lives that don't fit in the constructs of your narrow mind.
Hindu prayer beads and the word "ahimsa" on my lips
Deep stretches with deep breaths while meditating on the life of Jesus
Pipes emanating with the fragrance of vanilla tobacco
Beer, wine, and liquor
Being drunk on fifty proof grace.
Colorful words that punch up my vocabulary.

the real curse isn't whether I say shit or fuck or damn.

Being cursed is being told you are loved
And then told to shut up.

If that kingdom goes up in flames from one spark that flies from my mouth
Then hand me the kindling.

No comments:

Post a Comment