Tribe

I am tar
I am enemy
I am too much
not enough
too little
too grand
too loud

I am outsider
I am rebel
outlaw
I am wanted
and soon not needed
I am sought after
and then discarded

I am unapologetic
I am not sorry
I will not be watered-down
I will not sit quiet and play nice
I will not convert my essence
will not twist and turn myself
to become swallow-able

I come from a tribe
where love looks like tables overturned in holy temples
Where love looks like sin wiping tears off the feet of a Messiah
where love looks like lump of skin hanging on old rugged cross

I am from a tribe
that will not be quietened
that will not fade
that will be too much and too loud and too grand
till Kingdom
come