Not a Wicked Woman

I wish The Spirit moving in me was calm and quiet;
Whenever I discuss scripture, I seem to spark a riot.
It's not that people think that my beliefs are wrong;
It's just that most like their religion with a gentler song.

I've been told by many not to share my voice,
But it seems as I get older, this is not a choice.
My daughter once said to me that's the job of a granny
To hand out opinions, of which I have so many.

Why is it for some The Spirit whispers when mine roars?
I don't seem to have an inside voice when my spirit soars.
It's very hard on babies and those who are convalescing;
To these folks, my energy doesn't feel like a blessing.

I know that most of us have been been told all our lives
To never speak of politics or the faith on which we thrive;
But the country seems to speak of almost nothing else
I simply want a more peaceful way to express myself.

There are many still thinking that a woman who is good
Will happily sit in silence while the menfolk set the mood.
I have really tried this, but it doesn't work for me;
The more I try to stifle, the more words fight to be free.

I wake up every morning and I ask the Holy Spirit
To heal my heart and my head, and control the words I spit.
It sometimes seems to work as I would like it to do.
But when passions are sparked, my words rise a decibel or two.

I know I'm not a preacher, nor an official teacher,
But I share the same Light as every creature.
And I want to shout this new knowledge in word and song
That the people who think me wicked may have always been wrong.