WHERE DO I STAND?

By KenBlue

 

 

 

 

A little bird came fluttering in and perched on my hand.

He said I’ve traveled all the way across this great land.

I have picked up a few scraps; some tidbits here and there.

I have traveled this long distance, my news with you to share.

 

There are some who say in secret, that you should not be heard.

They say don’t read his articles or entertain his words.

We think he’s cynical and senile; he is getting old.

We liked him so much better when he kept his thoughts on hold.

 

We are unsure just where he stands and what is all the fuss.

Is he standing in their camp or is he standing with us?

So we have been instructed, to his words turn our deaf ears.

We don’t want to be influenced, or upset our precious peers.

 

I whispered to the little bird, before he took his flight,

Let each one know, in my solitude, there’s abundant light.

I’ve determined to take my stand; on my stand I’ll be found.

For in fundamentalism, I see, there’s no middle ground.