"Let's take our country back,"

"Bar all Muslims,"

"Put prayer in schools,"

"Protect our guns"...

Why not rather be wronged?

You worship a Crucified Man.

Why not rather be grieved?

You follow the Man of Sorrows.

You wear your indignation 

like a Pharisee's phylactery.

You protest to your shame,

you who've forsaken love.

Sown among thorns,

you neglect That which is weightiest

to consume and read your rights

while the helpless lay underfoot.

Take heed -

The cries of the oppressed

are not far from the Almighty.

Moans of hunger - 

groans of blood -

have reached our Father's ears - 

while you've sat in your self-interest

and counted your own tears.

It's challenging to write without much rhyme,

without much subject, meter, or structure.

Like a fatigued muscle, coming up with clever

 words makes this pen feel like a dumbbell 

and this paper, an unrolled mat

 on which to practice awkward yoga poses

      I suppose.