on your forehead
that says
Jesus saves
but will he save me?
I am the devil
in my blue dress
and leather shoes,
my skin a map
of woodstock,
the 80's
and following the Grateful Dead
all the way through,
my feet callused
from marching for peace,
my face
tells you stories
of peace pipes,
acid trips,
a night in jail
for disobeying a society
that cannot hold me;
you cannot tie down
someone made of the wind;
I travel
from city to city
spreading
peace,
love,
vegetarianism
and communal living,
I am the messenger
for the earth's wisdom,
a shaman
to heal humanity;
I wish to heal your soul
yet you despise me
because there's dirt on my skin
from decades
of being
what you refuse to become.
And your Jesus will not
save me;
for I am a heathen
in your eyes,
your religion
the purity drug
for which I am
the antidote;
I am not a wall you can bend
with your beliefs;
nor am I
something you can mold
like untamed wire;
accept me
and my soul;
I have been
forever society's canvass,
the artwork of the streets,
the exhalation
of tortured youth.
Copyright (C) 2009 Sara LeMaster
