Indignation

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

It seems this has become

our sacred homeland;

a deep purple bruising,

never quite healed-over

before another collision

rewinds the process.

Between our fragile veins

and our paper-thin skin,

we are constantly pooling blood

just below the surface.

We are never more bruisable  

than when self-loathing

reflects on those around us.

Neck-deep in a self-righteousness

of our own plans and expectations,

pity the poor soul whose work

falls short of perfection.

Storming the captain's deck,

we demand attention

commensurate with our lot.

All the while, Love remains

squirreled away in our luggage,

never unwrapped;

Grace is kept at bay because

we've never been able

to release her from

the prison of our unworthiness.

Whatever the marvelous journeys

on which we find ourselves,

leaving home without

the cloak of forgiveness

renders our mission invisible.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins