Twelve angry fingers point, insisting
I am the guilty one. Death by exclusion
or endless innuendo, either will suffice.
With eased conscience, duty done,
they return to ordinary lives,
believing they’ve upheld
will of the One.

From frothy mouths incessant mumbling
flows uneven over a once beloved homeland,
body of solid evidence pricked apart
by mere circumstance, twisted and
used to convict me of crimes
not committed, not
even conceived.

Privilege revoked, membership denied,
I wander free away but ever shackled by
relentless accusations which collapse
on me from every direction. Time
folds in upon itself and soon, one
swallow song away, heaven’s
white flag shall fly.

In far kingdom, come to Earth, all hearts
will be made pure. No man or woman
will know the sting of stigma burned
by the best of intentions or the
other-than-wise, for all minds
shall rise and fall into a soul
purpose: justice, peace.