Holy.

You speak of His son,
Who cured the sick and healed the crippled,
Spoke of finding hope in the darkness.
His son,
Who asked for nothing more than trust.
Yet, you speak of denying that hope
To those who have done nothing wrong,
Just to call yourself “enlightened.” 

So how can you speak of a man who only wanted to love,
And say he hates those who only want the same?
How do you tell stories of the man with the golden heart,
And say that he cannot love all?
How can you say he wishes for world compassion,
And say then treat people with anything but?

You preach a life of kindness, yet you say to deny some the right,
And you explain that it will “save.”

The stories you tell, the lies you spread,
They are not full of love or hope or compassion or faith.
They are tinged
With hatred, with exclusion, with hopelessness.
You speak as if you know what’s best for us,
As though you know what he wants to say,
Yet, you preach words he has not spoken,
Reading words from a book he has not written,
And call it “faith.”