Bubble

Do you remember

   the neighbor kid whose parents

      were paragons of hospitality,

   sincere and nice, and as compassionate

as anyone you knew;

yet the boy himself was

   an arrogant little snot,

      always condescending,

      forever reminding you

   that he might as well

have been royalty and,

if you knew what was good for you,

   you'd give him a wide berth,

   the best seat, and

first choice of popsicle flavors?

Some people are like that

   with their religion;

      externally pitying all who don't

   see, say, practice, and pray

the way they do;

but secretly both fearing

   and abhorring all who wear

the robe of "other",

because faith's genuine article

   has enough courage to carry

      a little doubt in its pocket

         and enough humility to hold

      all of creation in awe,

   but doctrine can't afford to drift

in the sea of such luxuries.

         Don't be that kid.

He grew up wasting all the grace

   his parents lavished on him,

      when he found out that

   everyone else was

just as special as he was.

The bursting of that bubble,

   over a long season of self-neglect,

   not only made him and his world angry,

it also nearly broke him.

© 2016 Todd Jenkins