Friday, May 8, 2015

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

4 comments:

  1. I think this is what has baffled me the most about this life: “Though the writing and hearing
    of this story may be cathartic, only the living of it
    can actually become redemptive.”

    From the wound of a younger me that has clouded my perception for decades, I know my thoughts are mostly a jumbled mix of truth & lies. From them until now I have presumed and fought against the notion that knowledge and pretty words equal, um, belief or faith or transformation or in this case redeemed. It always rattles and comforts me to find that to be untrue.

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    1. Yes, "rattles and comforts" is a beautiful description.

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  2. I keep reading and re-reading this. Thanks. "Shadowy glimpses of a place I want to go..."where we both long to feel safe; where all is unpacked and safely stored
    in the attic of Mercy..." So many good lines that resonate deeply... You have a wonderful gift.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you. It's the living of it, or at least the beginning of TRYING to live it, that makes it so vivid in my mind and heart.

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