What Is My Sin, God?: a Poem
I never invited myself to this world
ignited by something like a passion's blast
spending some months unconscious and curled
before slapped for the first cry, not for the last.
They didn't like me the way I was born
so soon I was remodeled by their own sample
with occasional ridicule, punishment, and scorn
chances to be myself were really not ample.
Then everyone else rushed in a stampede
to instill into me what life was all about
teachers, politicians planting their seed
each making sure there would be a sprout.
So, what was my sin, after all?
Was it my almost ruthless liberation
with a march into life instead of a crawl,
listening to my own mind without hesitation.
Maybe that's why I gave up on any god
tired of authorities and their silly preaching
accepting my sinfulness, imperfect and flawed
and forever guided by my own teaching.