You Don't Know Her. (a poem about looking beyond the outward)

Sort of Poetry.  For Xiomara.  Once someone told her she wasn't a true christian because she had tattoos and piercings.  It infuriated me.  I think it infuriated Jesus.  I felt him tugging at my heart- telling me that person who said that didn't know her but He did.  So this is one of my long poems.  I was irate and had to write it all out of my system.  Bear with me. I'm not a poet.  I rant.   I think it speaks to a lot of us.  

You don't know her.

You think you do

but you only know what you've allowed yourself to see.

You've never looked past the black clothes and the tattoos and the piercings

but you think you know her.

You don't know her.

Because you've never looked into her heart.

You've never seen how she loves.

You don't know how deeply run the waters of her compassion.

How she would fight for you

die for you

stand by you when everyone else leaves you.

I know that. 

You don't.

Because you don't know her.

You never felt her hurt or tasted the salt of her tears. 

You never knew that there could be so much pain inside

That the only solution was pain on the outside.

I've felt that pain.

You don't know how it feels to be pushed away. 

Because of how you look

 or where you come from

or what language you speak.

You don't know what it was like to be preached to or condemned

but then be pushed away.

By people like you.

You don't know what it's like to be preached to

by people with the right image

but the wrong heart.

You don't know what it's like to carry a burden.

And loaded burden

on top of burden.

Things that God never intended for her to bear

and you yourselves never lifted a finger to make it any better.

Then when she stumbled under the weight of it

you called her names and said she wasn’t truly a believer.

I've carried that burden.

Do you know how far she's wandered?

Do you know how far I have pursued her down that road

that people like you set her on?

Do you know how many miles she's walked to get where she is?

You don't know. 

  

Because you don't know her.

But I do.

I've walked there with her.

You don't know how long it's taken to mend her heart

that the world broke

and people like you crushed.

But I do.

You don't know her.

You weren't there when she came to me.

You don't know how much she's changed.

What she was,

what she is now,

What she will become.

And yet when she makes mistakes you fold your arms and say she doesn't belong to me?

How dare you do that and call yourself by my name?

You don't know her. 

But I do.

She is MY CHILD.

AND I LOVE HER.

But you don't know her. 

And the thing is...

though you claim to...

You don't know me either.