Love Your Neighbor
“Love your neighbor,” cries the pastor.
You nod and smile.
After service, you walk past the homeless man outside
Without a second glance; “He’ll just use it to buy drugs,”
You mutter –As if that makes him any less worthy of help.
Assemble the picket signs.
Pass out leaflets filled with the images of dead babies;
Tell the women filtering through the doors of Planned Parenthood
That hell is where they belong instead.
Vote on tax breaks for the rich and wealthy.
“I pulled myself up by my bootstraps,” you claim.
(Somehow you forget about all the times you wanted
To hang yourself by them instead.)
Broadcast on Facebook.
Remind your closest friends and family
What a good Christian you are
By sharing memes.
Be a social activist.
“All lives matter,” you yell.
Don’t open up the newspaper today,
So you don’t have to read about the unarmed
Black man shot dead in the middle of the street,
And the black woman murdered for speaking her mind.
Lock the door to your mansion.
Hop in your brand new BMW.
Drive downtown and serve food
At the soup kitchen for an hour.
Attend community functions.
“We cannot allow this to happen in our schools,” you yell in protest.
You are not referring to the gay child bullied to suicide by classmates,
Or the transgender girl murdered on her way home.
You fight for the exclusion of gender-neutral bathrooms.
“Love your neighbor,” the pastor commands.
You smile and nod.
By Sadie Leigh
Sadie Leigh is a new and emerging poet who has never published their work on-line or in print before. They hail from a cold and snowy state and they are perpetually cold even in warm climates. They enjoy warm cups of coffee on rainy mornings, the smell of new books, and almost all small animals.