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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