A Rebels Cry

Your church is a gravesite,
The chapel built from bones
That holy wine you drink poured from the skull of a child who embraced their sin
Your scripture the whip that cuts deep into unmarked skin
Blood dripping from the words of your holy men as they talk of our ‘fate’
Flesh ripped from bone
Our souls laid barren and bruised
On the front steps of sacrilege

Our history is written in blood
Our pride, remembrance of the fallen and what we fought to gain
A gentle hand held out to those in need
A loving kiss in a sea of hate
The silent embrace of two sinners
Bodies marked with the violence of a saint

Our existence an act of rebellion

. . .

Our existence an act of rebellion

A cry for help from a tainted soul
that only You can save

“Hate the sin love the sinner”
You can’t hate the sin
yet love the sinner
When our sin is simply existing

The adversaries influence upon this earth
A secret love, a hidden kiss
The forbidden fruit sweet on our lips

Just one little bite couldn’t hurt

Not when that bite comes from someone who looks like Her

Not when it comes from someone whose eyes shine like stars
And whose hands gently hold the weight of
my
heavy
sinning
heart