As you speak those words
I wonder,
are they from your God or mine?
And I wonder,
when did They become so different?
Does not your scripture itself,
speak against the blind following
of dogmatic traditions?
So set in your ways
that God's own voice could not touch you,
if he chose to speak again.
So sure of your knowledge,
that the appearance of God
would not stop you
in taking one more counted step.
When is your tradition a wicked one?
When is mine?
What if the real God
is bigger than yours,
is bigger than mine?
I thought Christ had something to say
about the stones you throw
at me, at mine.
What place do stones have
in a world of sinners?
As all his own children,
how did we travel to this place,
of you and I,
of yours and mine?
When were these sign-ups
where I allegedly
'changed sides'
and turned away from salvation?
In the privacy of repentance,
why do my sins
demand a trumpet bearer
in your eyes?
Should I summon an orchestra
to play the fanfare for yours?
And if, in time
I return to your God,
to your light,
you would have no place for me.
I would be outcast,
barred because the ground
I dared to walk on.
To be re-admitted
to return to the fold,
I have found
there is no place for me.
With no middle ground
left upon which to stand
I have no place
to rest my weary feet.
Rooted in a youth
that fostered curiosity,
that suggested power
in personal-witness,
I grew also into a ground
where personal witness
is only valid,
if I come to your answer.
If I find peace and honesty
in another way,
then of course,
I am doing it wrong,
and must repent
Again.
