by Jen Hunt
Yes, we’re unhinged
Flag’s edges fringed
Fighting those with stars on thars
We’re angry and at war
Public enemy number one?
Index finger on my sternum
What’s in my heart?
Evil and sin
What’s in God’s heart?
Mercy outpouring
Submit to our leaders,
Give Ceasar his due--
But I don’t bleed red, white and blue
I bleed you, Christ
the lowly and meek
Christ, who turned the other cheek
Christ, who upturned poser’s tables
Christ, who’ll return to judge our fables
Justify, renew this muss
Your image we have tarnished
Yet eternal hope you’ve lavished
If I’m an heir, the credit’s yours
God, I’m floored.
I noticed that this poem was written more with head than heart. I didn’t feel too deeply writing it, so the admission of sin feels somewhat hollow. It doesn’t incorporate the five senses. Oh, well. It’s a first draft. I’m interested to see how it comes into focus, with further contemplation. I'm willing to share with my church's writer's group, to encourage them not to get hung up by perfectionism.
