God was made of metaphors
Before he was a boogeyman
And we made love a ticket for
The journey to the promised land
Some people love their neighbors
With a gun held to their head
For fear of where they might end up
After their body’s dead
Why’s it hard to love for love
When love is what we need?
Why we need permission to
When love is what we bleed?
Praise the word, ignore intent
Or make intent our own
Don’t ponder on the meaning
Words are words and words alone
A Life in Poems 