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atheists in the waiting room


I could see that pain and hatred in your eyes The moment she spurned you as childish and unwise. I know how it feels to be scorned and chastised. I know how it feels to go against those baptized.
You were caught in a raging hurricane; And I could see that it was difficult to refrain From making a scene. But you had finally had enough. You stood up, the conversation turned rough, And I wanted to intervene.
You needed an ally, Someone whose beliefs weren't calcified. I knew that here, those devout break us; We are few, far in between, and cautious.
But I was there. We were two of a kind. I squirmed under your mother's stare, Asking me about your 'poisoned' mind.
You stormed out. I saw opportunity. If I could comfort you after the fallout, I'd introduce you to a like-minded community.
But I wasn't out of the closet myself; Dawkins was hidden on my bookshelf. I wanted to run to your aid, But I stayed there, afraid.
I know I should have come to you. I should have renounced the hate they spew. It's difficult, and my cowardice made it worse. I'd let them win, so myself I curse.
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puffin

I'm a very busy physics major who writes "poetry" sometimes. I'm really into dadaism and the artistic revolution of the 1960s, and, cringey though it may sound, I think there should be a revival of that movement, which may be why I stick around here sometimes. It may be worth mentioning that I'm an atheist; I appreciate your religious sentiment, but all you'll get back from me is humanly good will.

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