There are those who spend hours huddled
over bibles stirring as if they were cauldrons
filled with gallons of steaming condemnation
drinking from a fountain of self righteousness

There are those who wrap themselves in corsets
containing and prohibiting any human love
freezing out those not deemed suitable
walking two steps ahead of the lowly and unworthy

There are those who scratch words and prayers
on paper that bleed and they suffer oh how they suffer
for their Jesus. P.R. Men for God, the only ones
with hotline to heaven, key to the executive bathroom

There are those who are confused and tired
poor and hopeful, lost and broken, held in God’s hand
with a gentle touch, washed and whispered to
needing, fed, welcomed home, covered by grace