Time to speak up

Jerusalem, Israel

I am tired.
I am tired of not being inspired

I am tired of these injustices I have seen
not rising up like floodwaters
breaking down the roots of strong trees
carrying them like toothpicks
in a frustrated, violent stream.

I am so tired.

Indecision about what to do
and what not to do
tiptoeing around your righteous judgement
and the line of my righteous desire for justice
Scared that the wrath of brokenness
I have seen, just might
Cause
a scene.

God forbid.

God forbid
I might cause a scene
when the words of your tongue lack a mere seed of compassion
in that hollow heart of yours that nods
and follows the words of the preacher
when he shouts "love all the people."
And somehow,
your gay neighbor and that immigrant laboring for his family
just didn't make the list.

God forbid.
I would be angry when you rise up in religiousness
and tell me which part of my life
just doesn't quite look holy enough
when I am solely trying to deal with the reality
of an unholy world.

God forbid,
I would not speak.

My silence is the only injustice I am guilty of.
And I refuse to let your religiousness
silence my passionate
and justified
anger.