But I Am Changed

 

I’d like to think I’m perfect.

But, I know I’m not.

The skeletons in my closet

are just as boney and white as everyone else’s.

I try to keep them in order,

hung behind the cloaks and veils,

so they don’t tumble and scatter across the floor

when I open my closet door.

Piercing eyes dig and stare,

boring holes into the fine fabric of my life as they pass,

never noticing my washed robes,

well kempt appearance and clean hands.

They cast judgment on the scale and lank

of my collection of bones,

attempting to read them like diviners,

and cursing me with the words:

Once a liar, always a liar,

Once a thief, always a thief,

Once a cheat, always a cheat,

Once a criminal, always a criminal,

as if redemption from God

can never set one free.

 

This poem was inspired music from Esperanza Spalding’s recent Exposure project. I’ll explain a little bit more about my experience viewing this 77-hour project and its impact in a future post. (I’m still processing! 😀 )

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