Sour Heart

She’s angry—my verse; but I dare walk the skies. Everything
Follows order: her order; but I’m chaotic, and dearly uncouth.
She bends an ear; and cries the judge. I’m to sketch my faith,
And ask approval. I dare enter the fields, and grip the wind: I
Dare disagree, despite a fervent heart. Some speak equality;
But theirs alone; and some favor love, but theirs alone. I spoke
Of life, a privy grave; and she cringed. I spoke of Christ, a
Public Cross; and she laughed; and all the while, a pressure
Built; and all the while, she festered guilt; and now the hurt, a
Broken voice; and now the pain, a spoken name. Such gossip
Speaks green; and bless a friend—a critic eye. Indeed the burn,
Triggers thoughts; and crooked views, a violin. I must repent: I
Didn’t die; and sour heart, a need to fly; but courage lost, a
Filtered hate; and sour hearts, fail to skate.