what does the preacher get by lying?
doesn’t he know that people still wouldn’t believe?
does he really think a purple light would make them flock like flies?
hasn’t he met skeptics who find it hard to dream?
is it really that hard to admit you’re not perfect
to imperfect people who are trying to be set free?
do you not trust the flock you shepherd to care for you?
did you forget that you are still a sheep?
although my lips wish to sing your curses
for leading many others to a place where they can’t see,
my heart empathizes with pride blocking your straight path,
and I pray your scars, your shame, and what holds you find release.