I Blazed at First

 

I Blazed at First

(“You are a hypocrite! First, take the wood out of your own eye. Then you will see clearly to get the dust out of your friend’s eye.” Matthew 7:5)

I have to admit I grew weary of the game,
for every speck I found, every sin I policed,
they always discovered at least another ten in me.
I blazed at first, burning my way through movie titles,
endless recitals of suggestive rock lyrics,
digging deep into conspiracies that proved the
world crept in through the pores of the careless
who let their oil run out and their lamps grow dim.
I was a fire, they were the lukewarm from whom
I would purge
every fallen poison and hidden urge to prove
my worth.

And yet I could not deny, had they spied my evening drive
or my bored routine,
they would lay eyes on a pretender, a show-off,
a bad actor in a good drama,
hoping to prove
my worth.

One day, or a thousand, I cannot remember clearly,
my energy left me. And yet

I did not stop the policing. I was impure as oil and water,
an emulsion unnatural. Some days demons ran scared,
blind eyes brightened, tiny lives heard the winds that bring
life like Spring. And other days (or nights) I pounded my head
against the impossible, the uncured humanity that
condemned me.

And yet,
dead to devices, the fire burned out, the fuel consumed,
every ember a remnant of the cloak I wore
for appearance’s sake. Reduced.

Today I play in the meadowed remains where wildflowers
grew after the old-growth crumbled when I thought I stumbled,
where only seeds remained to brighten my humanity
again. And I’ve found logs and specks,
failures and driftwood are all welcome here.