Cross You Wear

I'm a Pagan in a Christan household. One day, my stepmother found one of my pentagrams and flew off the handle. In my annoyance and general fed-up attitude, this came to me.

That Cross you wear?

It is not mine to bear.

I choose the stars.

Circle-bound as they are.

My pentagram;

Not your sacrificed Lamb.

My elements -

Just like your sacraments.

In perfect love

From the Divine above,

In perfect trust,

I will do what I must.

To suffer through

Your do’s and don’t do’s.

Until the day

I can just walk away.

You can hate me.

You can refuse to see.

It’s who I am.

I choose my pentagram.

This star I wear?

Not your burden to bear.

It’s my choice.

To stand up; raise my voice.

And say it loud.

“I’m Pagan. And I’m proud.”

Author's Note

Criticism regarding the poem is highly encouraged; criticism regarding my faith is not.