"Preacher Boy"
by Keturah Johnson

Preacher boy, with your gift of silence
Haven't I heard you speak somewhere before?
Preacher boy, where's your long long coat?
Where's your snake skins, and all your other sheddings?

Is this the life that you wanted; is this your calling?
Wouldn't you rather be drawing the baker baking pastries down the street?
What if that "person" who you thought's been calling
Was actually busy drawing a portrait of what you really aught to be
Sat in your empty room with your pastels 
Sketching the cup that holds your tea

You're so caged up in your own misery
Wouldn't I like to be the heroine that sets you free
No no no my dear, don't you know that's your own responsibility 
But I've got your back preacher boy, when you decide your ready

Preacher boy,
I hear your silence.



Keturah~

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