A poem under construction:
Not in my name;
that’s all I can say.
Those you travel with are taking lives,
those you listen to are ending dreams,
they are closing doors that used to be open,
they are closing hearts that used to be free.
They do not do this in my name;
I am not part of their plans.
If your religion tells you to kill,
if your religion teaches you to hate,
then it is not my religion, or God’s.
If you think you do this, any of this, for me,
or for some perverted idea of what I might want,
what might be to my benefit, and
for my good, then please, I beg you, please,
Not in my name:
you do not know me,
you do not know my dreams,
you do not share my hopes,
so do not presume to know what is good for me,
and do not claim the beating of my heart
as your own, as your motivation,
your permission to do these things.
You do none of it in my name.
You do not know me,
nor do you know the God I serve.
I wish, I only wish you did.
If only you could learn to listen to different voices,
if only you could learn to sing the songs of peace.
Until you can, then what you do
is not, is never in my name.