Wednesday, January 29, 2014

An older poem

This poem is at least six years old, perhaps more (though this particular edit is mostly from summer of '09, with a couple fresh tweaks). I'd lost it until now because it was in an encrypted WordPerfect file that I had no way of opening until recently.  The darkest parts of it aren't usually applicable anymore, thanks to God and those who love me.


Confession
concluding with An unworthy sinner's prayer 

Across the continent and half an ocean
we met briefly, heart to heart, pain to pain.
Mistook, did I, compassion for emotion,
and clung to that which wasn't mine to gain.
You, recognizing that I'd lost my compass,
broke off the bond I'd wildly misconstrued.
Your comprehension of my life encompassed
the one who'd matter when I came unglued.

In old days they'd declare a nervous breakdown
when people hurt the ones who matter most,
but I lack such an alibi to put down
this railing against decency long lost.
Instead, I stand convicted of abusing
the trust of all who viewed me with respect.
At least I'm past unconsciously accusing,
unrecognized, deeply crushing regret.

I wish that you knew how I scarred my loved ones
with actions I can't utter in the light.
I doubt you'd benefit from such a summons;
be glad that you have put me far from sight.
I never will again look to your friendship
to take the place of her I finally love.
I've come to find within her treasured kinship
the partner of my life sent from above.

The time and tide have turned in ways I never
could have guessed would ever come to pass,
for some "for worses" stigmatize forever,
so I've stopped hoping your regard might last.
If you anticipated my great falling,
or sought to rectify my mental state,
please know that you had no hope of forestalling,
no way you could have ever changed my fate.

I grapple to believe an Advent's coming
that brings redemption e'en to such as me.
Self judgment is the beat my heart keeps drumming;
with millstone I've been cast into the sea.
No matter how well I know that forgiving
is why Christ came to earth, our souls to save,
I struggle to accept such cause for living.
Oh, how I long to occupy my grave.

I'll ne'er be able to unlade this disgrace,
though some might offer respite from the load.
'Tis mine to carry forward in the face of
whatever trials await along my road.
Imagining that your heart would fain reach out -
your faculty for love, exceptional -
instead my tortured soul just whispers out from
within this thinly veiled confessional.

Most likely, you'd advise me to seek refuge
from sources well equipped to salve my shame.
Indeed, two stints of such aid proved to be huge
in bringing self esteem back to my name.
Two decades worth of others' condemnation
of heinous crimes as I did perpetrate,
have reinforced my self-excoriation
for acts which good folk all abominate.

But worry not, for yet I find the Way to
take shelter from this storm of self hatred:
you helped restore me to the one who breaks through,
whose love anoints my undeserving head.
Now her acceptance and care keep me going
when I would rather give in to my curse
and drink my father's draught; I refuse, knowing
that yielding to despair would hurt them worse.

And so I sing this ballad never ending
in longing for an answer to my sin
that proves, in practice, capable of mending
a heart so utterly rent from within.
I give love, and as much as I am able,
I welcome merciful acceptance shared,
whilst knowing there will never be another
to whom my inner being I have bared.

I pray upon your fam'ly ev'ry blessing;
that perfect Providence and Grace abound -
I'm sure that God is to your home addressing
those priceless gifts of love that will astound -
and, just perhaps, if it can be, all learn from
the lessons other people's wounds impart;
may you, and those you love, not doubt nor turn from
the One who knows how best to tend each heart.

No comments:

Post a Comment