Dear Poet - Short 2.0

Forgive me if

I didn't applaud just then
at the end of your poem
when the others did.
For while I love a scathing diatribe,
the one delivered just now,
it was about me.

"No, Christopher, it wasn't about you . Just... people like... you…"

OH.

Those whom, it would seem,
all invented slavery, burned the rain forests, and blindly embraced pedophiles as clergy

"...the really religious ones... The Jesus people, you know... the born agains."

Who would legislate your uterus, pry the wedding ring off your gay finger and kick. your. puppy.
Yes.
That's exactly what we do.
People like me, always quoting the Bible like it's
the Word of God or something.
Thinking truth comes from a divinely inspired scripture
when we all know it comes from your three-minute slam poem

True, We embrace the idea of being "born again."
It's not weird.
You're a poet. It's a metaphor.
Had we called ourselves "Phoenix Rising from the Ashes Christians"
It would mean the same thing.

For professing personal faith in a loving God
Just how am I
"shoving religion down your throat"?
And why always that phrase to talk about my faith,
but not your politics?
The funny thing, though,
Most "people like me"
are too intimidated by "people like you"
to even mention God in the first place.

Jesus did not come for condemnation.
He stopped a stoning.
Drew a line in the sand.
Said, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,"
reserved His harsh words
only for the holier-than-thou.

To the weak and the sinners, He said,
"Follow me. I'm going to your house!"

He said, "I am the good shepherd. I know my sheep."
Told us to care for the orphan and the widow.
These are the teachings that "people like me" will follow.

Do not lump them in with those who have worn the cross like sheep's clothing.
There are many,
spouting their venom
and waving their ridiculous signs.
But there will always be more gentle sheep than wolves.

And please,
Before painting “people like me”
with the broad brush of oppressor,
do me a favor.
Look at your face in the mirror
for just a moment.
Watch it.
Listen
as a simple statement escapes my lips.

"I am a follower of Jesus Christ."

Did you notice the way your lip curls into a tsk?
I see it every time.
You make me unwelcome,

Blast my faith in public without remorse
and enjoy the applause.
Forgive me if I don't join in.

Listen
to the disgruntled sigh that issues from your chest
even now
as you think,
"is this poem over yet?"

No, it isn't.