WANT

As a supporter of gun control,
I’m often asked
“If a man breaks in
and has your wife at gunpoint,
wouldn’t you want a gun?”

Want? For what?
To kill?

What I would want
is a howitzer.
Or Jason Bourne.
Or to have Blade’s sword
and his powers.
Or the police.
Or maybe just to have that guy
not have a gun.

What I want
doesn’t mean
it is what’s good for me.

What I’d want
is cruel and vindictive;
evil to rain down upon him.
What I’d want
is to be evil.

The question is never
what do I want?
Always
what does God want?

Does God want me evil?
turning a vengeful hand
upon my neighbor’s throat,
placing a glock to his temple
playing revenge fantasies
“Do you feel lucky?”
and repaying their violence
twofold, maybe four?

Does God want me to hate
and revile the stranger,
especially the ones we think
are packing, but can never be
too sure? Or maybe
the kids with the black skin
because, hey! Who are you calling a racist?

Is this what God wants?

Or does God want me
to resist those temptations
and put away my weapons
which, to me
are my words,
beating them into tools
to till the soil and grow
some food for the community?

Does God need me
not to retaliate
not to return hate for hate
or hate for indifference
wrong person at the wrong time,
Sorry Mister!

Do my neighbors need me
to be no more dangerous
than some armed thug
and no less angry than a victim
because I am beyond mad;
the fury of a thousand
warriors are breaking camp
within my gut, rising for battle
to defeat an invading army,
raping and pillaging
my village, coming for my children
with green eyes blazing,
monstrous forms, visible
on the horizon, war fires light
the night sky and make the
terrible ominous glow bounce
to the cadence of marching feet.
These marauders approach,
but they aren’t some foreign
enemy with different skin
or different gods, dress, traditions.
They aren’t criminals or psychopaths
a background check will alert.
They aren’t police or soldiers or
yahoos playing army in the woods
but neighbors, angry, scared,
more willing to burn my house
down and slaughter my family
than look me in the eye
and say “I was wrong.”