Who Is Calling At My Door
Hey you, you say, are you busy?
Hey you, you say, don’t be lonely.
Hey you, you say, you sinned.
I say, who are you to judge me?
Who are you to drug me?
Who are you to slander me, attack me?
Who are you bullying me with noise, day and night,
and depriving my family and me of earnings?
Why don’t you go away? Forever. Begone Satan.
Go back to your grave. The light of God
offers joy, peace, learning, gifts—that’s not you.
What have you to offer but the stink of past?
When I loved you, you were lonely, hurting.
I loved to stop the hurt. To protect the innocent.
When I loved you, I thought you meant me well.
You took a knife and cut my throat and laughed.
I don’t want you zombie. I love life.
You have bandaged your own self-image so falsely
around yourself you stink. Even the grave
doesn’t wish to hold you. Shame. Be ashamed.
Leave me in peace to make my life anew.
Even if you’re all I have, I still reject you.
You have never once said you're sorry,
never once admitted you did wrong.
Who gives you the right to teach people a lesson
that hurts? I'm not an electron, I hurt, cry.
Who gives you the right to make a joke of me
play it before a cast of thousands?
Are you so dead you forgot people hurt and cry.
Are you so smart you think no one knows how
snotty you are, how insulting and abusive?
That life was no fun for me. Be damned.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013
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