A label hides the human face
And keeps a distant link:
“I have no need to talk with you,
This tag means I don’t think!”
“You’re old, transgendered, black, or gay,
That’s all I need to know.
I just don’t care what makes you ‘you’:
I sussed you long ago.”
A label here, a label there,
A method to contrast,
A reason to exclude and hate
Is based upon typecast.
But sweeping terms, like working class,
Disabled, deaf or blind,
Or lesbian or feminist,
Can thwart an open mind.
We fail to face the fears we have
By classing each with brands,
Rejecting life’s diversity;
The moulding of God’s hands.
In Christ each life is made unique;
The image of God’s heart.
So let us now from prejudice
And mindless judgement part.
© Gary Hopkins 2008
Poem for Easter Day
The tomb. Open. Empty. Still.
The rush of heart. Beating. Pained.
Where is he? Where is my Lord?
This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
Death lingers. Silence deafens.
What now? No Jesus. No hope.
The sun creeps. Shining. Glowing.
Light beams. Blinding. Warming.
The tomb emblazed. Jesus gone.
A bird calls. Silence breaks.
A tender song. Stillness pierced.
The world awakes. No Jesus. No point.
A voice startles. “Why sorrow?”
That voice. Can it be? Is it?
A tear falls. Love envelops. It’s him. It’s my Lord.
Joy rises. Hope returns. Life begins.
The possibilities. The future.
A fresh start. Another chance. A new way.
© Gary Hopkins 2010