Garden of the Next Generation

They're old,

So mind your temper,

Bite your tongue.

It's their generation, just let it go.

I run through the forest

Beating my hands against my chest

Like a drum,

Roaring my outrage

Like a gorilla in the jungle

Ready for war,

To claim and destroy.

I've no patience or tolerance left

For hatred that festers and spews.

They have had time to wake up,

Learn, mature.

Even raised under their care,

I saw the wrong and left their ways.

I cannot be silent or still.

It's time they learn

There is no acceptance

Here in my land, in my home for

The vile things they think and say.

My heart weeps at their words,

Aches for my fellow children of

The earth, the world, of Christ.

I cannot be the next Christian to

Silently allow them to continue to dig

And plunder the land with the plow

Only to plant more seeds of hate.

It is others and me plucking out

Ugly weeds from ugly words,

So why should I let the seeds fall at all?

They have awoken the righteous temper

That slept in my heart like a lion

Resting in the warm sun.

And, I will bellow and snarl

Despite my appearance of weak.

I may rest with sheep, but I am not

Part of the flock.

And oh my heart, it bleeds and pours

To hear their words and see their actions.

And my soul burns with the ache

My mouth parts to speak

Because I have no tolerance for

Hateful things in the garden I planted.