Criminal Infatuation

Walking in silence,

In pure

i m m e r s i o n.

I notice leaves,

Blooming,

Concerning me.

Concerned for me.

And for my safety.

The white cross,

Burned.

Signs of their past.

I imagine

The violence,

The terror.

They plan their lives around the campfire,

Only in silence.

I smell the smoke,

Smell the terror of extremists

Who say they are Christians.

But I know better.

I know they live in terror.

Never knowing,

Never finding,

Never knowing

Who they are.

They are the lies of the world.

Dead, but still walking,

They torture.

They kill.

And they hate.

They hate the ones who call themselves Christians.

They hate their brothers.

And their sisters.

They hate their skin,

Their hair color,

Their language,

And their souls.

They do not understand hypocrisy.

Their “acts of God.”

They live in fear.

In concern for no one.

Not even each other.

They kill each other,

Unsure of their true intent.

Their true meaning ,

Mere existence symbolized by

The white cross,

Still burning.

Charred around the edges,

Little sparks flying from it’s middle.

Staring at me,

Telling me to join them.

To join them as a Christian,

As a brother,

And as a sister.

But I know they are none of those.

They are murderers.

Full of hatred,

And fear.

Fear of life,

Fear of death,

Fear of losing.

They die only when then last spark

…b u r n s  o u t…

In silence.