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Thanks @kb-writer ! This is great feedback!

1) I’m split on keeping the wording as it is because I think it stands out a bit more and makes the reader think a bit more concretely about some of the horrors of martyrdom than otherwise, but I also don’t want to come across the wrong way. I really appreciate your input on this.

2) Yeah, I hear you. I guess I was wondering if it was getting too wordy or not and if the wordiness was weighing the poem down. Sorry I didn’t make that clear at all!

3) I think maybe this new revision (below) will make what I was trying to be clever about more evident. While I was trying to be clever about mixing up space and time, I was really trying to connect the common phrase “dying to tell you” (like, excited to tell you) to evangelism and martyrdom.

4) Looking back on it now, I tend to agree with you. Thank you for pointing out the clunky parts to me!

This new revision seems to take an entirely new direction, but I think it’s a lot more honest and drives home the connection between “dying to tell you” and martyrdom better. What do you think?

Btw, I don’t tend to check stuff out on SE unless I’m specifically mentioned or responded to, so please feel free to mention me in anything if you’d like feedback on something! Thanks again!

 

Evangelism

I’ve come all the way here to talk to you.

Here, in an empty McDonald’s corner booth

Around nine in the evening,

Just a few years west of Eden

Down the road on Roman Empire Street,

Right across from the American Revolution.

I have come from birth

And teething rings and standing up and falling down and

Stealing toys and riding bikes and building forts and

Telling lies and driving cars and texting friends and

Rebirth all the way to you, here, and now

I should be dying

To tell you

The same thing

Those who came before me,

Who were tortured but refused release,

Who were beaten and spat on and thrown in prison,

Whose hands and feet were chained together,

Whose faces were smashed in with rocks,

Whose belly and legs were sawn apart,

Who died

To tell those who came before you:

That a Man who was also God

Lived and died but also lives

So that you and I can be free.

It’s simple enough and I do believe,

But I’m not dying

To tell you, and it’s killing me

Because I know I should be.

I should be dying

To sit down across from you,

To look you in your bewildered eyes,

To use words like “sin” and “death”

Like they’re normal words

To bring to a conversation,

To casually bring a two-edged sword

To a knife fight,

To tell you that there is one way out

And that He is that way.

And though I’m not dying

To bring this evening to its climax,

I set my tray down across from you

And introduce myself.