Only A Golden Rule, When Applied To You

You say

Religion is

The gateway

To freedom

From oppression.

And yet

In too many places

I must lie.

About

Whom I am

As a person.

Else 

Face jail time

Or death

For being myself.

Living

The life of Janus

Fully aware

Of the message.

Being delivered

From the pulpit

Every weekend.

Held up

As a moral pariah

To be whipped

And pilloried.

Challenging

The very fabric

Of societal norms

Around gender

And sexuality.

Does

My very presence

Display the hollowness

Of your faith?

You need to

Fling stones

And arrows

At me.

To prove

Your moral superiority

Over a minority

Like myself.

If so

I pity you

And your beliefs.

Author's Note

capchta: hellroot

Reviews

[Janine Boiselle]

I'm sensing a pattern in the structure of a few of your poems...is it a personal preference? I like the message you deliver in this piece, but I think that it could have an even stronger impact on your readers if you experiment with the structure. Or maybe even dramatizing text sizes and punctuation would give this poem an interesting feel. All depends on how you want your tone to be.

I think that breaking out of the ordinary with the looks of this poem would add to the idea that religious groups should also step outside of their normal practices and change some of their hypocritical practices. Not saying that all religions are terrible or hateful, but that they should be accepting of all who wish to practice their faith with a community of others without being ostracized in or outside of the congregation.

Would rate this an 85/100

[therisa]

Yes, Janine, this poem is based, upon very personal experience, I have had with conservative Christians, and their quickness to condemn me, for being a trans-lesbian. But, also describing the various experiences of other transpeople, concerning the religious community, in their native land.

As for the poem's format, it felt right, intuitively, to me, at the time of writing it out. Which starts with a handwritten version, before being transcribed, onto the net. A poem has to feel right, before I am willing to set it, in ink, upon a page, after the first stanza.