The Word

Occasion: When I was in Jr. High I knew a girl named Donna. She was the girl in every school who was picked on, ignored, teased, etc. I never participated in those things, but I also never stood up for her, which I often felt I should. I wrote this poem several years later, in 1984, after I heard she had commited suicide.

She was a good friend,
From beginning to end,
We had the same classes in school,
We always would pick,
Who could be in our clique,
All our classmates thought we were cool.

On the weekend my perch,
Was a place we called church,
I’d show up in my coat and my tie,
They said I was so sweet,
Cause my clothes were so neat,
There was no better Christian than I.

On Monday I found,
She was now in the ground,
Somehow, unexpectedly dead,
On Sunday at home,
Only sorrow she’d known,
By herself put a gun to her head.

When I’d thought it all out,
With a cry and a shout,
It occurred to me, I’d never shared,
That God loved her so much,
That all it takes is a touch,
To bring happiness when ere you’re scared.

Now one word describes me,
And the feelings inside me,
And I hope that I’m not always it,
Now I know He lives in me,
And I pray He forgives me,
Cause that one word is this:
HYPOCRITE.