he walks the dusty dirt road,
skipping stones in the stream,
singing songs to the sky,
painting a picture of perfection
for the untrained eye.
but as the stream curves closer to the dusty dirt road
his picture morphs and twists on her glittering surface
and a snarling monster settles in his place,
in the reflection on the water.
reflection on the water,
the ugly truth of a beautiful lie.
he rejects whole races,
only able to see in black and white
but never gray;
and, certainly, he is blind to the beauty of a rainbow—
he couldn't love his daughter
for her love was for a girl;
he swears my love is a sin
yet thinks himself the better for preaching his hatred
on the basis of a book not everyone believes in,
but those who do not are the subjects of his hatred as well.
(don't worry, at least
but he wears a smile and walks with a swagger to his supposedly superior step;
the reflection on the water
is better than
but it will