Redemption

When scales fall from my eyes

day after day,

When I see with new light,

When I see how many of my constructs

have been wrong (all of them, really)

Should I be surprised that gratitude

grows as easily out of tears

as green blades after rain?

However justly I may have earned

all the isolation in my life

(however weird I was, and blind, and gross)

there is redemption:

None of us has ever owned

anything to cast us from the circle.

None of the condemnations ever

had any truth. None of us

deserve (nor have we ever)

to be anything but celebrated, loved.

There’s no account I need to go and settle,

no debts, no currency of wrongs,

no need to reconstruct an altered story —

I forgive myself, and everyone,

and wake to home.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 6, 2015