Reflecting

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

It began like most ordinary days,

with Routine and his partner, Expectation;

the usual meaninglessness

out of which we try

to fabricate existential purpose;

that’s when the detonator twitched

and there I was, laid open,

naked and vulnerable,

while someone else was Narcissing

all over the walls of my life

with stuff I wasn't sure even

a pressure washer could expunge.

And I've been cleaning it up

ever since, a little each day,

as I have the stomach for it.

But some days I come back

to find more than was there

the day before, and I know

nobody else has been here but me.

This makes me wonder,

cranking up my inner detective,

sleuthing around all the feces

still plastered to the walls.

As it turns out, I am all too familiar

with much of it, because

it came from the unexamined pockets

of my own baggage – those little zips

and corners in my own life's luggage

that I've yet to bring into the light of truth.

Then it hits me that both of us

are from the same neighborhood;

that we both grew up at different

corners of the intersection

of Shame AVE and Insecurity DR;

and even though we moved out

and tried our best to move on,

we are still carrying the weight

of childhood on our shoulders.

In the lightning flashes

of midnight cleaning episodes

I catch shadowy glimpses

of a place I want to go.

A voice tells me there is

but one path I can take.

It cuts straight through

the neighborhood of Forgiveness,

where we both long

to feel safe; where all

is unpacked and safely stored

in the attic of Mercy,

and we are welcomed to a place

built for us from the foundation

of creation: a home called Enough.

And then the voice cuts to the chase,

“Though the writing and hearing

of this story may be cathartic,

only the living of it

can actually become redemptive.”

© 2015 Todd Jenkins