Feeling empty-handed, she
Reached down to pick up each
One, every shred that had fallen.
Mercy whispered, You don't have to do that.
Running her fingers over every fiber -
Each one different, each one dark -
Gathering them and laying them across her knees she
Remembers exactly how she'd gotten
Each and every one.
Tired but determined
She threads the scraps together.
Time moves on and each piece,
One by one, is painstakingly (stubbornly) added.
She stares at it, lying in her lap -
Heavy, black, thick - then dutifully wraps her shoulders.
Are you really going to wear all that? but
Mercy is a voice she can't hear anymore.
Enveloped in her shroud, she falls to her knees
and buries her face in her hands
--------------------------------
"What is the difference between SHAME and REGRET?"
This question was posed by my sister on her blog They Hang Like Paper Lanterns. The question made me think hard about what that difference might be. I intuitively thought that there was a difference, but it was hard for me to come up with a way to articulate it. Eventually I decided that it would be best to describe the process, in my mind, that takes someone from one to the other.
Reading down the left of the poem the letters say "FROM REGRETS TO SHAME" because I believe one stems from the other when properly cultivated. It's titled hand-made because I feel like every time I find myself weighed down by shame I can see how it was because I intentionally and "painstakingly (stubbornly)" dwelt on my regrets in my own mind. I run my fingers over them again and again, I piece them together and try to connect the gaps, and I build them into something that is cold and dark and thick.
If only I would listen to the voice of Mercy before I begin designing my heavy burden to wear. If only I would let Mercy tell me I don't have to do that. If only I would let Mercy keep that unnecessary weight off my shoulders.
But instead, I have a closet full of these cloaks, and innumerable more layered on my back.
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
~Galatians 5:1
5 comments:
Abby,
This is the most beautiful thing I have read in a long time. You are an artist above and beyond artists... The way God has gifted you with the ability to weave words and imagery and emotion... it knocks the wind out of me every. single. time.
(And that is not meant to be sunshine pumped up your pantleg, Love.)
Praise God for the gifts He has given you. Praise God for the way you seek His face and glory through those gifts. Praise God that I get to benefit from all He teaches me through you.
This was a stellar piece of work.
Hi, Abby. Erin sent me here, and I'm so glad she did. Beautiful, deep, rich poem and embodying such wise insight! Wow. I'll be thinking about this a lot today.
Thanks.
Jeanne
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
Came over at Erin's invitation. Somehow this reminds me of the opening of the book of Zechariah, where Joshua is seen standing in filthy clothes. He is already rescued (a symbol of the Jews rescued from the Babylonian exile) but you would not know it from his garb. An angel calls out "put on him the festal garments" and we see that this one who was given grace must now also bear grace on his back... a light burden, clean and without wrinkle. Anyway, your post explores this nicely: we have the new clothes but need to wear them instead of constantly trying to save and piece together the dark remnants of the old.
Dang, Abby. This poem was brilliant...absolutely brilliant. I was stunned and amazed at your mastery and craft. You've got so much talent. Don't ever tell yourself otherwise.
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