Sins

 

Sins

 

My sin is lugged behind me,

Counterweight to innocence,

I am only what I am,

And have no lofty confession.

One only need to see my track,

To know what scars I may have collected,

To guess at ones I’ve left.

My sin ever follows,

Though it be unspoken,

A testament in time

Of the dual nature of humanity,

Or of the weakness of one man.

Tomorrow will not unburden me,

True cleansing comes only with finality.

My sin is drawn after me,

A reminder of borne imperfection,

Or an inability to learn in time

That lessons can be had from any,

Though I may have judged them as lesser,

And could not hear

What they had to tell.

My sin is all the memories

Of the things I should have done,

The things I might have done,

And the things I did instead.

My sin is having left behind

The person I should have been

And not being that person

To the people that needed me most.

My sin is not learning fast enough

To be the person

I want to be now.

My sin is ever after me,

And I shall try harder

To leave it farther behind,

And still close enough

To remind me,

What I have been.

 

Cliff Lake 7/15/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

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