It Was Easier

There are six hundred laws and more,
Ten carved in stone that still remain,
All pointing to the words of Christ:
Love God, love self, love neighbor plain.

And once, those words were easier said,
Before the world had taught me fear—
When neighbors looked and spoke like me,
And all the lines of life were clear.

It was easier when homes were neat,
And campers lived at KOA.
Not on the streets in tattered tents,
Just trying to survive the day.

It was easier when Kims and Patels
Stayed in the “right” parts of the town.
When Black folks worked to blend right in,
And none of that turned upside down.

It was easier north of the Mason-Dix,
Where we prided on being “just.”
A haven, so we claimed, for rights—
But rarely named the breach of trust.

It was easier when we could agree
To disagree on weightless things,
Before belief became a badge
And every thought had tribal wings.

It was easier in ’95,
When hate wore masks and not a name.
Before we posted every feud
And Facebook taught us all to flame.

But easier never meant I loved.
I walked the line, but closed my eyes.
I thought that peace was playing nice—
Not seeing hurt or hearing cries.

It’s hard to love when I hate me,
When shame’s a voice I cannot shake.
The world says chase what pleases you,
But pleasure leaves a hollow ache.

Yes, easier came without a cost,
But Jesus didn’t come for ease.
He told a tale that turned the world—
A neighbor hated, born to please.

The priest, the Levite walked on by,
The Samaritan drew near.
The one despised became the hope—
The stranger wiped away the tear.

It was easier when I was blind,
Too young to grasp the deeper pain.
When ignorance wore innocence,
And love was something I could feign.

But now I know what I did not—
That love is hard, and sharp, and real.
It asks me not to feel at ease,
But to repent, and kneel, and kneel.

I want to hold on to my pride,
To shout, accuse, and draw my line.
I want the world to love like Christ
While I withhold a love like mine.

I want to curse those I despise,
And let my anger be the rule.
But hate can wear a holy face—
And I’ve worn it like a fool.

I’ve carried holy arrogance
Down south of that line.
A nostalgic wish that all could be
Like the world I left behind.

It was easier when love was neat,
When kindness felt like common sense.
But now I see it’s not a pose—
It’s costly, deep, and consequence.

Jesus didn’t say “love those who shine,”
Or those who make it worth the while.
He said to love the hard-to-love,
To go the second, bleeding mile.

He asked us not to pick and choose,
Or only love the kind and bright.
But see in every weary soul
A mirror of our own lost plight.

So no, it’s not as easy now.
But love has found a truer shape.
It walks through pain, it stays in mess,
It risks its own escape.