The Guilt Wore
The guilt wore dust as a coat
while I wore it as a cloak
echoes from the bygone past
comfort settled as evidence
those long decades streaked with shame
stripes of fault against the gray
fashion bent to bear the weight
the last resort that many take
it's all the rave would say the crowd.
This recourse at last arrived
a stooped knee hitting ground
with mantra torn from my lips
'I'm sorry' evoked as talisman
yet in that moment the world was shrunk
fault enveloping my grimy frame
could this be the harried end
for a soul with no recourse
to God's good grace beyond dark fog?
An unwinding is the key
that strong spring that may yet break
if kept twisted round the heart
overlooking what came before
the old man no longer wise
I shall decline to the rube
unlearning years of inward rue
now cast off a cloud erupting
guilt turned round to ignorance.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180131.