Repentance Perhaps (a poem)

. . . for the ways I treat myself, you, others, God, creation 
          as objects to be used, misused, mistreated, and dismissed . . . 
. . . for the times I allow insecurity and fear 
          to drive my behavior . . . 
. . . for the manner in which I have not recognized you 
          as fully you . . . 

. . . for the moments I hide in the shadows 
          instead of walking in the light . . . 
. . . for the instances I stay comfortable in my silence 
          instead of speaking up . . . 
. . . for the days I remain seated 
          instead of standing up . . . 

. . . for the missteps . . . 
. . . for the misdeeds . . . 
. . . for the mistakes . . . 

. . . for commission . . . 
. . . for omission . . .
. . . for acquiescence . . . 

I repent.

Perhaps that is how we begin 
to repair the breech 
          both real and perceived 
between 
     me and you, 
between 
     the who I pretend to be and the who I am created to be, 
between 
     a constrained understanding of God and the freedom of the Divine in our midst.

Perhaps.
  — bshivers 

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