M. Suzanne Terry

My question for you…
I’ll get to that.
First things first –
Your church and I?
We don’t like each other.
We “love” each other.
I love them like I love the prim biddy with corseted heart who preempts every hello with an are-you-seeing-anyone and looks down her highway of a nose when I talk of Those People.
They love me like they love their drunken, cantankerous uncle who embarrasses them at Grandma’s funeral by saying, “shit,” in front of the preacher.
But that’s not liking.
And that’s not enough.

How is it my fault?
That question is neither
“Tell me how wretched I am so I can wallow in my filth…”
nor
“Strip me of unpopular conviction so I can baa in tune with the rest of your sheep.”
If you require those responses
I’m not your girl for the job.
I am a dissenter.
I am a peacemaker.
If everything is possible for you,
How will you reform my soul to make it so?

I dreamed of a wall.
I cried.
I softened the mud between the bricks with my tears.
I planted seeds there.
I woke too soon,
But not before I saw the strongest root begin to nudge one of the bricks out of place.

I think you have begun.
I want in.

My Story Sessions sisters and I are doing 40 Days of Poetry.  Hopefully there will be more that I want to share.