Well, lets be honest, I’m not here for a haircut…
I am a sinner.
I am a statue, moored by concrete, set in my ways,
Set in stone, inside rock.
There are places upon me which the sun has never seen.
Inside, hidden pipes of justification
Spout excuses that will never work.
Shortcuts and make-believe have led me here,
Will faith carry me back?
Isn’t it a part of faith to have faith that it will work?
Even those little things, those accidents -
Fingers jammed up in a door frame,
Falling on icy steps;
Even while screaming
I know that I am responsible.
Thinking about mustard seeds
Shrinks the scope of my world,
Until the only thing left is possibilities.
And the hardest part is that God has forbidden
Judging ourselves or others.
So I suppose I am guilty there, too.
—————–
Some other poems with a similar theme
I’ve also done a couple of essays:
And a short story:
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