Sober Mercy

This poem came to me as I sat at breakfast and saw some friends who I know had recently been passed over for an opportunity - I won't say what, but I've had other friends passed over for the same opportunity, and was passed over myself, and I realized that given time, these friends might be tempted to become bitter over this situation. Having gone down that path, I know how foolish that is, so this is my advice to those who are tempted towards bitterness. I think it might be somewhat inspired by Gerard Manley Hopkins' "Carrion Comfort," or maybe I just hope it is.

It does not matter,

no, it makes no difference

whether or no there is cause

for bitterness,

refuse that cup -

straight-edge –

there’s no solace

in that shot.

None of us are aware

of how cluelessly

our days are spent,

each step as we walk

wounding parties unknown

to us, though this fact

does nothing to alleviate

those slights.

No, remember this,

and known they do not,

cannot know what they

have done to you –

even if one was

youthful enough

to thoughtfully twist

the stiletto’s blade,

forgive them, be raised

above their level.

I can say this for I know

well how little balm

is found in those lands

that border Gilead,

I preferred to spend

years in the desert

seeking false panacea

rather than set foot

in the land of peace,

where I knew

those gaping, cavernous

wounds, great maws

of agonizing void,

would be shown

to be no worse

than mere slights.