Like a Time Capsule

Like a Time Capsule

(“But can anyone know what they’ve accidentally done wrong? Clear me of any unknown sin.” Psalm 19:12)

I’ve been running around this oval for far too long.
I used to run it so well with nothing left to sell and
only crafted pages of unbalanced mistakes.
I can see them, front and center, all the cages
where I locked away the wilder passions that
troubled me in darkness and silence.

I should have learned it a dozen lives ago that
there is no hiding once the deeds are done. There is no
consent for a choice gone wrong. I lack the control to
turn the pages to the next story I’ve hoped for ages to write.

I faced the facts, but only one at a time. I could not carry
the weight of every kind of stone that tripped me up.
I should have seen it coming;
I should have leaped out of the way. I opened my
mouth
to clear my mind and nothing came out except for
a squeaky scream that frightened even me.

The way I sneaked around the edges of my consciousness,
the way I perceived failures and fatalities only served
to make coming home a delayed tragedy.

So, clear my anonymity, let the motion pass unanimously.
My legs are mud-like and my imagination keeps recording
every uncertainty from the first time someone decided to
pry a confession out of my quivering mouth.

I’ll carry the weight, I’ll set it down on the porch.
I’ll visit the forest just a mile from my front door.
I’ll speak your name although it is unpronounceable
and hope when you call mine it will be a foreword
the new day longs for. I’ll
discover what I buried like a time capsule half a
century ago. I’ll reach out my hands to either side
and round dance with all the tribes that once invited me.

And if someone shows me how I’ve missed my steps
I’ll follow them faithfully until I learn them right.