primping, preening, posing,
you have not distracted us enough.
Pointing a frenzied finger
at imagined monsters,
you have failed to frighten us
of the right things.
Demeaning the people,
denouncing their voices,
parodying the cry of the poor
and the caution of the wise,
you have peddled despair,
we are still here, still healing.
You have not set us free from God.
You have not relieved us of the burden
of our passion for justice.
You have not cured us of our hope.
Even now—amazing!—we are singing.
August 10, 2020