Oh Lord, Please Forgive Me

 

“And we have to mourn this and we have to be sad that we live in a town, a state, a country where shit like this happens. I mean, these are people trying to distance themselves from this crime. And we need to own this crime. I feel. Everyone needs to own it. We are like this. We ARE like this. WE are LIKE this.” – Zubaida Ula, in response to the torture and death of Matthew Shepard, a gay college student.

It’s been over a week since the Pulse shootings and I’ve been wrestling with how to respond on my blog. I knew instead of distancing myself from the horrible tragedy, I had to mourn it. I had to own it.

What welled up from within me turned out to be a rap lament

*************************************************

Oh Lord, Please Forgive Me

For every time I laughed and looked down on someone overweight

I never realized I was feeding someone’s self-hate

Making them feel that they were less than, they weren’t good enough

What else could they do but let their hearts become tough?

 

For every time I fed a child my unconscious prejudice

I never realized they’d be consuming something venomous

Passing on my fear and putting people into boxes

It’s like I forgot what the meaning of the cross is

 

              I’d like to point fingers at the mess that we’re in

              But if I’m truly honest, I know I helped to create him

              My finger wasn’t on the trigger, wasn’t on the gun

              But, Oh Lord, please forgive me

              I helped make him the one

 

For every time I judged somebody with a different faith

I never realized that I was just tryin’ to play it safe

I had all of the answers, never thought I had to listen

Instead of simply loving thought I had to make them Christian

 

For every time I made a gay person feel oppressed

Believing that their gayness should be cured or at least suppressed

Or when all of the haters said that they should be punished

Instead of speaking up I kept silent, I kept hushed

 

              I’d like to point fingers at the mess that we’re in

              But if I’m truly honest, I know I helped to create him

              My finger wasn’t on the trigger, wasn’t on the gun

              But, Oh Lord, please forgive me

              I helped make him the one

 

For every time I listened to the rhetoric on gun laws

All the people talking ‘bout the right-to-bear-arms clause

How about the mamas, papas, uncles and the aunts

Who lost their precious ones to this senseless violence

 

For every time the Church turned its back on the outsider

When we should’ve had our arms opened even wider

For every time we say we love the sinner, hate the sin

Why we talking ’bout sin instead of reconcilin’?

 

               We’d like to point fingers at the mess that we’re in

               But if we’re truly honest, we know we helped to create him

               Our finger wasn’t on the trigger, wasn’t on the gun

               Pulse victims, please forgive us

               We helped make him the one

 

 

*************************************************

If you’re feeling like you need to own this too, you can play the beat below and rap along.

 

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