My Misdemeanor

My Misdemeanor

(“David said…to Jonathan, ‘What have I done? What is my sin? What have I done wrong to your father, that he wants to kill me?’” 1 Samuel 20:1)

What is my misdemeanor and why do you indict me?
You should have been my friend across the foaming ocean,
but you cross-examined my intentions, took my words and
set them up like a canvas tent in other people’s mouths.

Lord, I am not a felon, or ever pulled a tongue-like-knife
upon the unsuspecting. Yet my back is riddled with
stabs and unhealed scabs from half a dozen righteous
who tried their best to shine.

I ate in your home and rooted for the Niners,
I visited you at work and saw you cry over lost love,
I voted for your sorrow, I laughed at your gags and puns
while you wrote secret notes and handed them out like candy.

Lord, I am not a criminal, but I’m a sinner, plain as can be;
Lord I’ve never stolen someone’s name or tried to replace their reputation;
I’ve sent sympathy cards, apology notes, and repentance letters
hand-signed and dated.

But with whispers, winks, and subtle nods that amounted to
hiring hit men, they knew the true, spanned grand jury decisions
but skipped the trial and sent their prey to detention straightaway.

Lord, I am not worthy, I am tar and feathers, ashes and sackcloth,
tears from the deception, and lonely from the inception of the plans
that left me homeless. My misdemeanor was not worth the
anger or the meaner side of justice. I laid down my musket
years ago

And will not take it up again.