Cut off, divorced, shunned and exiled
Whatever the word, it leaves me defiled
The pain of bifurcation
Or more aptly, separation
As I’m ripped and flicked off
Like dead, sunburned skin
I’m certainly out now,
But
Was I ever really in?
My presence always provisional,
Predicated on consent
To abuse perennial?
If belonging is based on bigotry,
Then maybe I should bless the one
Who discarded me,
Praise God I was flicked away.
For at the end of the day
The body I once belonged to
Already suffers decay:
Toxicity Incarnate.
No.
I know now that
God wants to graft me
Not onto death, but life.
God bids me to wait
For divine hands to splice me
Onto the Root of Jesse–
An overlooked stump,
Prophetic throne,
Reminding me I’m not alone.
Photo from Visual Hunt.
Melanie Weldon-Soiset 