Whole Again: A Poem for the Conflicted Heart
He was inevitable
A product of the violence
Inflicted on ourselves
Every day, in great and small ways.
Bleeding from thought to deed.
“Surely this is as far as it will go,”
We blindly believed
Running faster and further
To the edge of reason; unchecked
By the choir of common malcontent.
Every step, and indignant word
Was met in kind, with a little
Something extra to prove his mind;
Building the case for a lunatic’s race
To no man’s land, bereft of empathy.
We railed against reason.
Accusing each other of the very treason
We committed against truer ourselves.
Day by day, cutting deeper, more sure
Of our own misunderstanding.
Though each partly in the right,
Yet all in the wrong,
We run together, further apart
Hoping, in vain, to balance the scales
Of a war lost within ourselves.
The further we run, the deeper we dig,
The more violently swings the scale.
The only way to balance
Is by meeting in the middle
Of love and charity; becoming whole, again.