I can love her books and still defend.
The fragile kids who flinch at every harm;
I will not trade one truth for trend.
The world is not a tale we neatly bend,
Nor are our bodies spells to break or charm;
I can love her books and still defend.
I know how words like Patronuses send
A silver light against a rising harm;
I will not trade one truth for trend.
I have been named a phase, a means to end;
I’ve worn the sneer, the slur, the small alarm;
I can love her books and still defend.
Yet nuance is a bridge we rarely mend;
We shout, we sort to camp and cause and arm;
I will not trade one truth for trend.
Let others choose the purity they tend;
I choose the messy work of open arm;
I can love her books and still defend,
I will not trade one truth for trend.