Crosses to Bear

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


A poem about the struggles of being part of the LGBT+ community

Submitted: August 13, 2018

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Submitted: August 13, 2018

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The colour of their sexuality

The crimson of the blood spilled from the veins

Of their fallen

Brothers and sisters.

Names carved into stone, erected in the dusk

By the light of a flickering candle.

 

Their bodies stuffed into bags that they

Don’t fitin.

Those bags, the closets

They are told to stay shut up in.

And they hide amongst racks of empty hangers

 

Held together with thick noose wires

That they wind around their necks

Before crossing the threshold.

 

Children kicked out for challenging that it’s not just a phase.

It’s better to make them homeless, than to house an abomination

That even God could not love. It even states in the Bible,

“If man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman…

They shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.”

 

Given a mouth full of nails, for every affectionate word spoken,

A knife wound, for every hand that is held.

A bullet, for every single embrace.

 

Men and women acting on sermons

Clippings wings off of young angels,

Saving them by saying they are wrong.

 

Worshippers think their hands are rough with calluses

From doing the work of God

When really they’re rough from the dried blood

Of those they’re helped bury.


© Copyright 2018 Christopher KP. All rights reserved.

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