Michael Fulkerson Poet Rhyme

Puritan Thinking

You cast your gaze, sharp and cold/
A relic of Salem, a story retold/
Convictions weigh heavy, though truth stands clear/
Yet you brand me alarming, fueled by fear/

Your judgement looms, a shadowed stake/
Bound by laws, yet the fire you'd make/
If time unshackled your hands today/
Would I see the embers of history's fray/

Puritan echoes, they linger still/
Through whispers low and sharpened will/
Not robes and hats, nor torches bright/
Yet still you strike with veiled delight/

I am a person with rights to defend/
My faith, my freedom, no need to amend/
No shame, no guilt, no crime in sight/
Yet you twist belief into blinding fright/

You see the world in black and white/
A rigid mind, afraid of light/
Yet truth will stand where flames may fall/
And justice calls beyond your wall/

Let laws restrain what hands would do/
But laws can't cleanse the thoughts in you/
Puritan thinking, aged yet bold/
Still walks among us, shrouded in gold/

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