Mortal legs can’t carry the weight of forgiveness. It doesn’t belong on our shoulders. We were never built for it or created with it in our veins. In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth and forgiveness was His. He breathed all the good things into dirt and there we were. We sinned. He forgave. We sin against each other and stumble around, the burden of Atlas. In charge of the celestial ball. Everyone must suffer because I suffer. Slit the throat of the offender, if only to watch them bleed out. Revenge, an unholy sacrificial offering to ourselves. Somehow it doesn’t feel any better. But if we only ask…first to be given the desire…Help. Then we loosen our grip of the knife and the neck. Gradually canceling a deficit of the heart. Like I said, forgiveness wasn’t built into our souls. It takes the Divine to achieve the impossible. Clean hands and a lighter step forward.
- Follow THE CONSOLATION OF MIRTH on WordPress.com
Top Posts & Pages
- RT @matthew_kreider: #takeyourpoettoworkday highlights now posted at @tspoetry -- and @lwlindquist captures the magic! (Thankful my poet i… 16 hours ago
- RT @tspoetry: More Take Your Poet to Work Day highlights! tweetspeakpoetry.com/2017/07/21/spe… @jenniecesario @lauralynn_brown @WordsworthTrust @heather… 1 day ago